


A Year and a Day

by glorious_clio



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: Adventure & Romance, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-28
Updated: 2012-02-28
Packaged: 2020-12-14 22:34:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 43,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21023330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glorious_clio/pseuds/glorious_clio
Summary: AU, Post-Walkabout and is not compliant with any scrap of canon post-almost-burning-down-of-the-Shire, or even my own lovingly crafted AU. Screw it! Get ready for lots of R/M mush, adventures, and the baddies getting their just desserts. Marian is tired of being a pawn, and Robin is tired of waiting. Adventures ensue in an out of order fashion and not according to plan.





	1. All For Love of One

**Author's Note:**

> Repost from ff.net
> 
> "Don't ever think I fell for you, or fell over you. I didn't fall in love, I rose in it." ~Toni Morrison.

Marian never thought she would be so happy to see the Sheriff as she was today. Well, happy to hear him shout, anyway. Order was quickly restored to Nottingham, the soldiers who were to burn the shire were quartered for the night amongst the city, and she was sent off to her chambers.

_ She  _ was simply tired. Tired of Guy trying time and again to get her to marry him. Tired of defending her actions to him, her decision to lay down her life with the people of Nottingham rather than flee as his wife. Even though he came back to die with her, she could not help but hope for Robin. Guy's gesture was… well, a bit late. She was glad of his skill as a fighter and a leader (well,  _ leader _ when the Sheriff was gone, but if they could have found him earlier, they would have never had been in this mess at all), but she knew in that moment she could never love him, nor he could he ever hope to earn her respect. She would  _ not _ leave the place she loved. Robin would return to make a last stand with her, she knew him too well. And if Guy wanted to join their party, it made little difference to her. She could not turn him away.

Though there was no fire, she felt as though her clothing, her hair, her skin smelled of ash. There was nothing in Nottingham for her now, save death and threats and cajoling from Guy.

She barred the door, pulled a large bag out of from under her bed, and began packing anything that may be useful (most of her things were useful these days, as Guy had burned the rest to the ground- more fire and ash from a man who claimed to admire her. It occurred to her that Robin smelled of growing things, of Sherwood). Only her heaviest clothing (not that wanton red dress, despite its newness), trousers, Nightwatchman gear, hairpin daggers, rags for bandaging, a knife, cup, spoon, a heavy blanket… such were the things Marian learned that were more use in the forest than a bright green corset dress. Comfortable, warm things, now that she actually had time (and the presence of mind) to plan.

And nestled in between two pairs of heavy hose, an (ostentatious) green engagement ring.

As she was pulling on her newest pair of boots, a knock came to the door. Marian held in a gasp, before calling, "Who is it?"

Instead of an answer, she heard a bird call. She dashed to the door, flung the lock open, and pulled the heavy door back. A man in a guard uniform stepped in crisply.

Before the guard could speak, Marian had the door closed behind him, barred again, and she turned around to whisper, "I am coming with you to the forest."

"Good. Anything fragile?" he picked up her pack.

"No," she tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Even better." Robin went to the window, which overlooked a rarely used courtyard, and dropped the bag the six floors to the cobblestones below.

Marian pulled on a dark, heavy cloak, and marched out of the chamber, Robin at her heels. She knew the Sheriff would be holding court, berating Guy for his actions today, but she could not bring herself to care at all. No one would expect her to be so bold as to march out of the castle, out of Nottingham, and no one would question her if she looked to be escorted the entire time. They made their way through the empty corridors, down to pick up her pack (which he carried for her) and out of the castle, where Robin had two horses waiting. He tied her pack to her horse. They mounted silently and were off at a canter, Marian careful to draw her hood.

The two made their way in the darkness out of Nottingham and into the (relative) safety of the tree-line. Marian did not even worry that she was now an outlaw- she had been one in practice for a long time now, and it was time for her to be named for what she really was. Robin Hood's spy, helpmeet, gang-member… whore. Whatever anyone wished to call her in relation to Robin, she was prepared for it. But she rather hoped someday to be called wife or beloved.

As they reached the trees, they slowed their mounts to a walk and made their way slowly to the camp, taking their time and going the long way around.

"So," he said, breaking the silence between them.

"I am with you, Robin. I am tired of being apart from you. I can no longer gather any useful information in the castle. I wish to be the Nightwatchman during the day. True to myself," she looked to him, "and to you."

"I will not pretend I am not happy about this change of mind, Marian." He smirked at her. "Does this mean no more kisses for Gisbourne?"

She laughed. "No, I think… I think I would rather save them all for you."

He grinned cheekily. She laughed and shook her head at his antics, bringing her gaze forward again.

"I am glad you brought your Nightwatchman gear. I would rather not expose your identity. You are safer when Gisbourne cannot find you, and if he discovers you are in my gang, that we were betrothed…."

"I had thought of that, it is why I brought it. And I intend to wear it."

"At all times?"

Marian shrugged. "People have long suspected the Nightwatchman and Robin Hood to be allies."

"We were."

"Not so blatantly. The only trouble is… my ring."

"What about it?" His voice went up an octave.

She had not realized he set so much in store by her liking the ring. To her it was just another… object. The burning of her house had taught her that material goods did not matter as much as she thought. While she still regretted losing a few things (like her mother, Kate's wedding gown), for the most part, Marian had little and needed less. "It is a bit much for a freedom fighter and a champion of the poor," she reasoned.

"You are right, of course." Robin bowed to her logic.

"I am not saying I will necessarily give up the ring, but I will not wear it while we are still fighting for justice," Marian said, looking for compromise.

Robin shrugged. "You could not wear it in the castle. The only purpose of the ring is to remind others that we belong together. The gang all knows that, I have no fear of them, and you could hardly wear it in front of Gisbourne."

"We are agreed then."

Agreements. So much nicer than arguments.

Marian and Robin dismounted and stabled the horses in a lean-to that Will had built after finishing the camp. It was not quite as well hidden, but since it was still over a mile to the outlaws' camp, it was reasonably safe to keep the horses there. Anything of value was then carried on foot to the camp.

Robin lit a candle against the darkness, and Marian brushed her horse down, the repetitive motion calmed her heart and quieted her mind.

"Marry me," Robin suggested as he took the bridle from the horse and hung it on the wall.

"I have already promised to do just that." She returned the brush to its proper bag and turned to face him.

"I know, but I mean… sooner. It could be a year before the King returns. Peace takes time to negotiate, and travel even longer. I want you now. I want our happiness."

She signed and toyed with her fingers. She could not deny that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. It was agony to be apart from him, agony to be standing next to him and not let him initiate her into the passions that men and women enjoy. She still had reservations, however. Not about his intentions or his feelings, but rather, practical matters. "No priest will marry us. You are an outlaw, and I will be declared one soon enough. You have no lands; there is no one to negotiate a dowry, or to give me away. I cannot think of a way to marry you, nor anyone to marry us."

"What about… handfasting?"

"It is a bit, well, pagan."

"Marian- I am a man, dressed in green, living in a forest, tempting a maiden to be my wife in the middle of the night. What about that is Christian?" his voice was taunt with frustration.

She inhaled sharply then let out a peal of laughter. He was right; she was still trying to do things the  _ proper  _ way, the way she would have done things five years ago, before he left. But they could not go back. They had to forge their own way, now. She was not marrying him as a matter of security, nor his political sway over the Sheriff, nor to protect her father. She was marrying him because she loved him. And she had every reason to believe he loved her back.

He went on, building a case, "Besides, I have stolen you from the castle, under the nose of the Sheriff and Gisbourne. By quite a few archaic laws, we are already married. Is this not how old Henry claimed Eleanor of Aquitaine? By stealing her away into the night? And, I know of someone who may be willing to handfast us, for I wish to do right by you, though I do not give a damn about the nobles and their expectations."

She smiled again, then wondered who would handfast them. "A priest?"

"A monk," Robin told her. "We can arrange for him to bind us as soon as you wish."

Marian threw herself into his arms, pleased with his cleverness. "Tomorrow."

He chuckled and dropped kisses into her hair. "Perhaps the day after."

* * *

It was nearly morning again when the Sheriff finally dismissed Guy from the Great Hall. Allan watched him march away with a sour look on his face.

"Giz, I have seen to your horse, and-"

"DO  _ NOT _ CALL ME THAT, YOU INSOLENT BASTARD."

Allan took a step backward. "Was it something I said?"

Guy did not say a word in response, but rather continued marching down the corridor. Allan followed as quietly as he knew how. He was not surprised when Gisbourne led the way to Marian's chambers.

Allan  _ was  _ surprised to see Gisbourne burst into the room without knocking.

And Gisbourne looked surprised to find Marian gone. Well, Allan could have guessed at that. He was amazed it had not happened almost as soon as she came back to the castle a few weeks ago. Since then, he had caught her listening at a few keyholes, but by the looks of things, she had not been able to glean anything useful. Not her fault, really. Giz and the Sheriff were being more careful than usual.

Guy turned suddenly slammed Allan against the wall, " _ WHERE _ IS MARIAN?"

"I'm not bein' funny, but do you think she'd tell me?" he asked. "Maybe she went to the Abbey again."

Guy growled, released Alan, and strode off, his black mood following like a shadow.

"Where are you going then?" Allan asked.

"The Abbey, you fool. Have my horse saddled," Guy snarled, obviously forgetting that Allan had originally sought him out to tell him the horse was stabled.

With that, Guy was gone. Allan hurried to prepare the horses. He knew they would not find Marian at the Abbey, and Guy would discover that she had never been there at all. Allan suspected Guy was not a complete fool and would guess Marian would join up with Robin (as Allan currently suspected), but there was not much he could do, except swear he had never even heard their names in the same sentence. Besides, Robin had recently used Marian as a hostage, that fact should cast some doubts on their relationship.

On the other hand, she did suggest Guy use Robin to help find the Sheriff today. Or yesterday, rather. Lost track of the hours. Allan wished for just a few hours of sleep. Just to get his head on straight. One wrong move in either direction could result in his death, Marian's death, the gang's death…. That was an endless list.

Alas, no rest for the weary.

* * *

"Much," Robin asked upon returning to the camp, Marian on his arm. The outlaws were busy preparing for sleep, the goose was penned up and awaiting tomorrow when they would truly feast on it.

"Yeah?" Much answered.

"Who was that drunk monk you and Will found wandering a few weeks ago?"

"Drunk? Robin…." Marian wanted to know. She took off her cloak and laid it over Robin's bunk, intending to share it with him. She was an outlaw now, she told herself, and no longer concerned with propriety. Nothing against Djaq, but she did not want to share the woman's bunk any longer. If anyone noticed, they did not comment.

"Friar Tuck? What about him?" Much said looking mystified.

"I have a job for him. Think he could sober up for an hour or two?" Robin wondered, setting his bow and quiver near his bunk.

"Maybe if we promised him some ale after the time is up," Will joked.

"Seems fair," Robin pondered, settling his fists on his hips, arms akimbo.

"What do we need a drunk monk for, anyway?" Djaq asked.

"A wedding," Marian said demurely, opening her pack and pulling out a very large ring. She placed it on her hand and tilted her head as if in study.

"Yours," said Much, without any surprise in his voice. Robin must have told his oldest friend. Good, Marian thought. Much deserved to know first.

Marian nodded and took off the ring again, resettling it in her pack.

"Yes, ours," Robin agreed. "As soon as we can manage it."

The gang offered their sincere congratulations. After the initial clamor wound down, Will quietly asked," How, I mean, what if… you guys, you know… have children?"

Marian suddenly busied with her pack again. To be perfectly honest, she was not sure she could have children, but she had not told Robin yet. After Guy had stabbed her, after it appeared that Marian might live to fight again, Djaq had found her alone and told her that the wound might have damaged her in such a way that would make bearing a child impossible. Her mind flew back to that memory.

_ "I fear I must tell you something that… I did not tell you earlier for fear you would stop fighting for your life. For surely, I think your life more important than…" Djaq trailed off. _

_ Marian was now, suddenly, frightened. Her mind scrolled through possibilities.  _ The gang? Was someone ill? Was  _ Robin  _ ill? Injured? In love with another?  _ Thinking the truth could be no worse than her impulsive thoughts she demanded, "Djaq, speak, for the love of God that you call Allah-" _

_ "You may not, with the wound where it is, be able to have children," Djaq interrupted, bluntly. _

_ Marian fell silent. _

_ "I know nothing of breeding, pregnant women are usually kept in confinement, as I suspect they are here, but… I think it a possibility you will not be able to bear a child." _

_ "I… yes. I understand." Marian's eyes were filling with tears. "Never lie to a wounded man." _

And though she had not lied to Robin about it, she had not told him about it either.

"We will cross that bridge when we come to it, I guess," Robin said, shifting awkwardly from one foot to another. Perhaps he did not even think of the possibility of her becoming pregnant. Men did not always think about the practicalities of a woman lying with a man, and how it may result in a child.

The air in the camp was suddenly tense. Marian knew she would have to tell Robin, but not now. Not in front of his gang. She would have to catch him alone. Perhaps tonight, in their bunk, with the rest of the gang asleep. They quietly prepared for sleep.

Robin offered to take the first watch, but John would not allow it, saying if the Sheriff returned, he needed to be the first to know. So Robin followed Marian to his bunk, and John found his boulder, high above the hidden camp.

It did not take long for the rest of the gang to fall asleep, their soft snores sounded like waves rolling in from the sea. Yet Marian was too tense to sleep, the day had been much too stressful, and by the feel of things on her left (it was too dark to see him), so was he.

"Robin, I-" she began in a whisper.

"I almost lost you today," he marveled, "and yet, you are here, in my arms." He tightened his hold on her waist and nuzzled her neck.

"Yes," she agreed. "Robin.…"

She rolled to her left side to face him. Space was limited, so he shifted to accommodate her. He stopped nuzzling her and propped his head up on his elbow. "Marian?"

"About the… children that Will mentioned…."

"I have no bastards," Robin confessed. "Not one. I promise you."

"Well, that is good news, I guess," Marian was thrown off for a moment. She shook her head. "Be quiet a minute, will you?"

"Sorry."

"It is alright. We have never had this conversation before. Quite unprecedented for us, to have something left for us to converse about."

"Uncharted territory," he agreed.

Marian took a deep breath, trying to organize her thoughts. Slowly, she pushed his left hand which had settled on her hip to the scar that Gisbourne gave her. "You should know that, before we marry in case you should change your mind, Djaq suspects this wound, this scar, may have affected my ability to give you children." Her voice shook at the end, but at least the truth was out. She wished for just a small flare of light so she could see his face.

"Marian," he whispered, and brushed his thumb over where he knew her wicked scar to be. A scar that was mirrored on his own body. "I hope you do not think that I will not marry you because of this."

"I do not want you to be… disappointed with me, if I cannot have children."

"I could not possibly be disappointed with you, Marian. You are… well. You are smart and clever and bold and brave and compassionate, and not to mention beautiful. Our ability to have children is in the hands of the Lord," he pointed out.

Marian sighed. "I… I guess now is not the time for children, but when Nottingham is safe again…. I had imagined a brood of them at our table, or racing each other around the forest, besting us at target practice."

"Hush, Marian," he rolled them to his back and rocked her slowly. "I have had these dreams, too. Once in the Holy Land, I had a dream that you gave me a daughter so small that I carried her around in my pocket. But those are dreams, my love. I much prefer reality."

A few tears slipped through her lashes and spilled onto her cheeks, like the secret had just told him. "Why do you seem to know just what to say?"

He chuckled. "I practice little speeches like that."

"Oh? And how do you find the time?"

"It is the first thing I do in the morning," he whispered. "After I imagine what living with you would be like. Sharing a house, sharing responsibilities… sharing a bed."

Her breath caught. Now was not the time, but it would be soon.  _ Very _ soon. The day after tomorrow.

"Marian, tell me you imagine these things too."

She slowly let out her breath. "Yes, but like you, I think reality will prove better."

She felt his arms wrap around her more securely. She nestled herself into his chest, using it as a pillow, and finally let his breathing lull her into sleep.

* * *

It was not too far to Ripley Convent, to the Sisters of the Immaculate Conception. But Allan was already tired and Guy was in no good mood for the journey.

"Maybe we will meet her on the road there," Gisbourne said when they set out.

"Nah, her horse is gone, and you know what a good seat Marian has."

"That is Lady Marian to you, Allan," Guy grumbled. "And I will thank you  _ not _ to speak of her… seat again!"

Still, before long they had arrived (Guy had decided not to take any guards, preferring speed over safety).

"Who goes there!" called an old monk at the gate.

"Sir Guy of Gisbourne, and my man, Allan-A-Dale. You will let us pass," he spoke in his dismissive tone.

"I am sorry, my Lord, I cannot allow men who have not taken chastity vows into these grounds. If you state your business, mayhap we can resolve it here?"

"I seek the Lady Marian, whom I believe came here to grieve for her father."

Allan shifted in his saddle.

"Eh?" asked the old monk. "We have no maid by that name, my Lord, I cannot remember anyone by that name in recent years."

"Impossible, Marian herself wrote me last time she took shelter here, the missive was sealed by the Mother Superior!"

Allan shifted uncomfortably again.

"When was this? Because the Mother Superior has had it put about, her ring was stolen by a man a few weeks back…."

"One of Hood's men, no doubt," Guy growled.

"Nay, 'twas a man well dressed, the Mother said."

Guy was stumped. "Might I speak to the Abbess?"

The monk shrugged. "I will go ask her. Please remain here; I will have another brother bring you ale and water for your horses." He waited as if for thanks from the two men.

Guy thought the monk could wait for eternity. Marian was not here, and the abbey would be getting none of his thanks for carelessly losing the Mother Superior's ring. But where-ever Marian was, she would be back. She had returned before, and she would return again. They had kissed, had they not? Not so long ago. And he had come back for her, to burn with her. She, well, he had seen the look in her eyes- the hope and the gratitude. She would be back. She had to be.


	2. Vows of Love and Loyalty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Stop this day and night with me, and you shall possess the origin of all poems." Walt Whitman

It was very late in the day when Marian awoke again. Robin was not in her arms any longer, but she could hear him talking to Little John. They were discussing a wedding.  _ Her _ wedding. Marian smiled and stretched, sighing as her muscles strained and relaxed deliciously. She had been more tired than she had realized. Facing one's mortality, then being up half the night could do that to a person. Reluctantly she opened her eyes and slowly sat up.

Robin was at her side almost instantly. "Good morning, my love," he greeted her with a kiss to her lips.

"Good morning," she replied when he let her take a breath. Little John had looked away. Djaq was fletching arrows. "Where are Will and Much?"

"Looking for Friar Tuck. Would you like something to eat?" Robin asked.

"Yes," she said, getting to her feet.

"We have bread and bread. And a little ale," Robin offered.

"I shall have bread and ale, then."

After breaking her fast, she settled near Djaq and picked up some mending that had been scattered in a pile. Forest living was hard on one's clothing, and the gang had gotten behind in the mending since she had left. Marian did not mind, it made her feel useful, as she was a very efficient needlewoman. And it was good to be of use. Robin and Little John organized baskets of food for today's drops.

After a short time, she heard loud singing and heavy footsteps. She looked up to meet Robin's eyes. The loud approach would have not been typical of the Sheriff or his men, so it was likely the inebriated monk that was supposed to handfast them, but she worried the noise would attract unwelcome attention. She had to trust Will and Much to keep them safe.

The brother would be no problem – Will and Much led the older man into their midst, leading because he was blindfolded. Once they reached the camp, Will closed the roof and Much pulled off the cloth around the brother's eyes.

"Friar Tuck, I presume?" Robin asked, standing to shake the hand of the monk.

"Robin Hood, I presume?" the newcomer replied in kind.

"You presume correctly," Robin answered.

"As do you," Tuck reached out his hand in blessing. "I understand you are in need of someone to perform a marriage? I was surprised, for I had heard you had preformed a few yourself."

Robin looked sheepish. Marian stood to comment, "He cannot perform the ceremony when he plans to be my bride-groom."

Tuck cast his eyes up and down her form. "And who are you, my dear, to give up a comfortable life to live rough with an outlaw?"

"Marian," she said simply, abandoning her titles and claims.

If he knew her reputation, he did not comment on it. Will offered Tuck a seat, Djaq brought him some ale (weakened with water, for they wanted his wits about him), and the gang settled back in, taking up their tasks again. Marian and Robin settled next to Tuck.

"I would not normally wed outlaws," Tuck began, "but you do the work of the Lord, as far as I can see. You care for the least of God's children, I cannot pretend that I do not approve. You shed as little blood as possible, so I cannot even lecture you on the Lord's own fifth commandment. Yes, children, I shall marry you, but it cannot be a proper wedding, I am afraid. You will not be able to make your mark in a register."

"We have thought of this, Brother," Robin began, "And of course there are other obstacles, mainly to do with lands and titles. So we had hoped you may be able to perform a handfasting ceremony."

"Master- a handfasting? Will not your hands be bound?" Much suddenly interrupted.

"Yes, Much, that is the nature of handfasting," Robin teased.

"So you will not be able to fight should the need arise," Much pointed out.

"Gisbourne-" began John, seeing Much's point.

"The Sheriff!" shouted Will.

"Hush! What is 'handfasting'?" Djaq asked.

Marian laughed. "Much, I am confident that we will be able to free ourselves from our bonds should we suddenly have to fight or flee. John, Will, we were not planning on inviting them, just you four. And Djaq, "handfasting" is a simple, peasant's marriage preformed if a priest cannot be present, or sometimes as a ceremony of betrothal. Obviously we are using it as a marriage. Any more questions?"

Tuck looked at her approvingly. "I have a question for you. You two are aware that handfasting only binds you for a year and a day?"

"It is our hope that the King will be home in that time," Robin told the older man. "Regardless, we are looking at this ceremony as permanent. I have no wish of leaving her."

Marian reached over and squeezed Robin's hand. She smiled into his eyes and said "Nor do I have any wish to leave you." He returned her grin and she went back to her needle.

"Very well," said Tuck. "You have obviously thought this through. Even as an outsider, I can see you two are well matched. You wish for the ceremony to take place tomorrow?"

"Yes," Marian said.

"Very well, the Feast Day of Saint Ethelwold. Now it pains me to say this, but you need to leave your bride now, you both have preparations you must make, and you must make them separately."

"Brother, even for a handfasting?" Robin pleaded.

"Yes, some decorum must be observed! No objections, young Hood. Your lady can stay here, and you and your men must go elsewhere for tonight."

Marian sighed. "I shall see you tomorrow night, my love." She hated to see him go, but Tuck was right. She had to see what she could do for her dress, and… "I must go to one of the villages and get some cords or ropes for us for the ceremony."

"Very well," he said and pulled her into a sudden embrace. He whispered into her ear, "But if you are planning on bathing, perhaps I could meet you before or after?"

She whispered back, "The pond near Barnsdale, an hour before dinner hour." She pulled back, he winked at her, gathered some things. The men did as well, and they prepared to blindfold Tuck again.

"What of you, lad?" Tuck asked Djaq.

"Me?" Djaq asked, surprised. The old brother must be losing his eyesight. "I am a woman!"

"Ah. Well, then I am glad the bride will not be alone, someone must be here to defend her honor," Tuck said neatly.

"You do me no credit," Marian scolded Tuck. "I have been watching my honor all my life, and am prepared to take up arms in defense of myself."

Robin chuckled. "It is one of the reasons I am marrying her, Sir. She needs no defending, and I trust her implicitly. Come on," he said, putting the blindfold on Tuck. "We shall leave the ladies to it."

Almost too soon they were gone and Marian and Djaq were alone. They discussed differences in their religions' weddings, Djaq seemed surprised at how elaborate Christian weddings could be when Marian described them, and Marian thought with envy about the beautiful flowers that Djaq spoke of. The day slipped away from them, and suddenly Marian realized she needed to buy the cords for tomorrow's ceremony. Telling Djaq of her plans for ribbons and a bath, she fled the camp for their stables, prepared a horse, and was on her way.

In Barnsdale, she bought two beautiful ribbons (" _ Green, and if anyone asks, I was never here." _ ) before heading to the pond that Robin once taught her to fish in.

She was not surprised to find him waiting there.

"You are late," he told her.

"Yes," she told him. "My apologies." She dismounted and wrapped herself in his arms. After a few moments spent kissing him, she stepped out of his embrace again. She reached into her saddle bag and pulled out the ribbons. "Give these to Tuck, but say you met with Djaq. Or do not say anything, I could not care less." She dug around in her pack again and pulled out a shift that she intended on bathing in and a heavy blanket with which to dry herself off. Summer or no, it was cooling off quickly.

Robin saw the shift and said, "Spoil-sport."

"No need for names. Now are you going to join me?"

They dared not stay long at the pond, only enough to bathe and dry again. Night was falling quickly and Marian had to leave, lest Djaq come looking for her. It was almost like being a maid of sixteen again, losing their chaperons and kissing with abandon in the shades of Sherwood until Much caught up with them again.

Back in camp, she had little to say and Djaq was never one to force a conversation. The evening was a blur, and that night in his,  _ their,  _ bunk, Marian thought she would never fall asleep, and before she knew it, she was awake again. Morning had dawned on her wedding day.

She rolled over in the bunk and saw two things. The first was that once again she had slept in very late again. Marian hoped her body did not think night was day and day was night. The second was that Djaq had been busy. Covering every flat surface were beautiful summer flowers for Marian to use to adorn her hair and to make a bouquet.

Marian got up, kissed Djaq's cheek, pulled on the only dress she had brought (a simple, dark green dress that Guy had  _ not _ bought her, one that she had  _ made _ with her own hands), combed her hair (leaving it loose, to match the simplicity of everything else), and wove a crown of blooms to wear.

Now to wait the rest of the afternoon for her nuptials.

* * *

Djaq had led her to a grove not far from the camp, and it was there that she met Robin. He looked… wonderfully like himself. He had cleaned and mended his clothes, his hair was tidy from last night's efforts, his beard was gone (he must have shaved it this morning), his eyes were bright and his mouth was laughing. He looked so young and clean and fresh, and Marian could not help but feel the same. It was as if they were suddenly youths again, sixteen and nineteen and their whole futures ahead of them. As if the last few years of separation and battle had not parted them.

He clasped her hands in his and breathed, "Marian, you look-" but he was interrupted.

"Are you ready, Robin Hood? Maid Marian?" Friar Tuck questioned from where he stood, in front of the tallest Oak in Sherwood. Such a strange ritual, Marian could not help thinking as they walked towards him. But the ceremony fit the circumstances. Here, with Robin's hand in hers (no traditional escort down the aisle to his waiting form), as they approached a rough altar in the shades of Sherwood at twilight, Marian felt that this was so  _ right _ . She was  _ almost _ glad he was an outlaw. Their company could not be more intimate, the finest witnesses in all of England clustered around them; Much, Little John, Djaq, and Will Scarlet. She had never wanted to invite every nobleman within a two-day's riding distance. Here, with his gang, with their friends and allies, well. It fit.  _ They _ fit.

"I am Robert of Locksley, true Earl of Huntingdon, and outlaw in this forest, and my desire is to be handfasted to the Lady Marian of Knighton, the fierce and noble Nightwatchman, whom I love." He squeezed her hand.

It was strange to hear him to use his full name, and hers, and then to add to it, making her identity clear to him, and to her. The identity she had created for herself these past few years. "I am Lady Marian of Knighton, and my desire is to be bonded to Robin Hood, outlaw in the King's own name, champion of the poor, lord of my heart, whom I love..."

"Do you do this of your own free will? Do you come here today without pressure from other persons?"

"I do," replied Marian, without a pause. Robin squeezed her hand again. No promises made under duress for these vows. No blackmail, and no physical wound to limit her movements or hinder an escape. Just his warm, calloused hand in hers.

"And do you feel able of fulfilling the vows to each other? If either of you feels unequal, now is the time to declare it."

It was strange to feel Robin fall still at her side. He was always restless, full of action, but now afraid the slightest movement would somehow undo this spell they were under.

"Very well," Tuck continued. "Robin, if you will take your bride's left hand in your right; Marian, if you will take your groom's left hand in your right..." Marian laid her bouquet of wildflowers on the altar and clasped hands with Robin. He looked so serious, this ritual was clearly so important to him that he even lacked the mischievous look in his blue eyes that usually flashed when he looked her way.

"...And so you will speak your vows, the same words, plighting the same troth, one to another."

He pulled two green ribbons that Marian had chosen yesterday from his belt and laid them cross-wise over their joined hands.

With Tuck's prompting, Robin vowed, "I, Robin, do give you my heart, and offer you my hands. I shall seek no release from our bond, nor shall I turn away from you. Entreat me not to leave you, or to return from following after you: for where you go, I will go; and where ever you lodge, I will lodge; your people shall be my people. Where you die, I will die, and there will I be buried. Not even death shall part you and me."

When Marian had repeated the vows back to Robin, Tuck tied the two ribbons draped over Robin's and her hands together, into one strong knot, and bound their hands. "As this knot is tied, so are your lives now bound. Two entwined in love, bound by commitment and fear, sadness and joy, by hardship and victory, anger and reconciliation, all of which shall strengthen this union. And though these ribbons shall be removed, the knot shall be set for eternity in these rings you shall wear upon your hands."

Robin coughed nervously. He had forgotten to tell the good brother that they decided not to wear rings. Tuck, having bonded couples before who could not afford rings themselves, recovered easily, "Or rather, in the very blood that runs through your veins. You are bound together, and you make each other stronger as you do so. Look to the world that God created, for you can find no greater strength in the world than this: Above you are the stars, below you are the stones, as time passes, remember...

"Like a stone should your love be firm, like a star should your love be constant. Let the powers of the mind and of intellect guide you in your marriage, let the strength of your wills bind you together, let the power of love and desire make you happy, and the strength of your dedication make you inseparable. Be close, but not too close. Possess one another, yet be understanding. Have patience with one another, for storms will come, but they will pass quickly."

Marian bit her lower lip and gazed into the face of her beloved. How many storms had they already weathered? Too many to even name. She felt Friar Tuck undo the knots he had made and passed them each a ribbon. Marian tied hers around Robin's left wrist; he fastened his around hers.

When this was done, Robin turned to the good brother. "May I kiss my bride now?"

Tuck nodded, "You may. Make a good job of it, Robin Hood."

Without hesitation, Marian stepped into his embrace and raised her chin, both in welcome and as a teasing challenge. Robin bent his head and soon Marian was dizzy from the intensity of their kiss. There was a roaring in her ears (though this turned out to be the gang's cheers of happiness and congratulations, and in Much's case, tears) and her stomach dropped in such a way as to make her thirsty for more of his kisses. Though she was wrapped in his arms, she felt suddenly as if she could not, could never, be close enough to him.

"Lady Hood," he teased her, kissing her nose.

"Lord Nightwatchman," she rejoined.

"Wife," he tried the word on her, as if seeing how it tasted on his tongue.

"Husband," she giggled the second syllable. He kissed her again.

The gang had invited Tuck to the feast, and the seven of them carved into the goose that Much had saved for the occasion. They feasted and laughed and sang well into the night, Tuck growing more and more tipsy with each passing moment, his songs more inappropriate for a man of the cloth. After a time, Robin and Marian quietly slipped away into the night. The gang could not help but notice, but no one commented and no one followed.

Marian allowed herself to be led, dreamily looking around the darkening forest, but after they had walked a mile or so, she pulled on his hands. "Robin, where are we going?"

"A forester's house. It has been empty since all of last winter, and Will and I fixed it up yesterday after our meeting with Tuck. It should be nice and quiet, as well as safe from any prying eyes."

"All the same, that is where you put our weapons today, is it not?"

He shrugged. "Of course I did."

Marian smiled at him. He had thought of everything. "How long have you been planning this?"

"Oh, I am good at planning," he assured her. "Even mad half-plans flesh themselves out." He grinned at her and they continued their walk. It was not much farther. It was a small cottage, Marian doubted it had more than one room. The roof was not even high enough for a loft.

They stopped outside the door. "Well?" Marian asked.

"May I carry you over the threshold?"

"I would be disappointed if you did not." He reached his arms out to lift her, but she stopped him, leaned over to open the door, and then nodded that he could continue. When he picked her up, she could not help but tease, "You are good at planning, are you?"

"I must have been distracted by your bridal blushes," he told her, then kicked the door closed behind them.

"I was not blushing!" She lifted her hand to her cheek, and sure enough, it was quite warm under her fingertips.

"Whatever you say, my love." He set her feet back on the floor, but did not let go. Instead he softly touched his lips to hers. She stroked his now-smooth cheek.

His kisses soon overwhelmed her again, and suddenly he left her lips, his own searching out her eyes, her nose, her ears, her neck… lazily he returned to her lips. Marian lost all sense of time; the only thing that existed was here and now in the darkness. There was not room for anything else in their cottage, in the quickly diminishing space between them.

"Robin," she whispered.

"Marian," he replied.

She pulled away and carefully lifted her crown of flowers. She turned to lay it on the wooden table that was pressed against the wall. Marian lit one of the candles that stood on the table. Robin watched her every action, his eyes dark and piercing. She sat on a small wooden stool and pulled her skirt to her knees and began to untie her boots.

Seeing the heavy, leather foot attire, Robin chuckled, but the desire never left his gaze.

"I am sorry I had nothing finer," Marian misunderstood the laugh and was suddenly self-conscious. Her fingers stilled on her laces. "I did not bring pretty slippers to the forest, and..."

In a moment he was kneeling at her feet. "No, Marian, I was not laughing at you. Never. Moreover, I was pleased that you are so practical. And I was so taken with your beauty that I did not notice the tread of your boots until now." He took her hand, kissed her palm, and finished the work that she had begun. He then shifted to his backside and pulled off his own boots, followed by his socks. She peeled off her own hose. He stood and pulled her back into her arms.

"I still wish I had been able to wear something finer for you."

"Come, Marian, the reality is better than dreaming of finery, is it not? Besides," he leaned in closely, his lips brushing her earlobe, "Finery is all well and good, but on a wedding night, you will not be wearing it for long."

"You better make good on that promise," she said with a small smile.

It came as no surprise to either of them that he did.

* * *

Marian awoke the next morning to a small scratching on the door. Robin rolled out of bed and pulled on his trousers.

"Who is there?" Marian asked sleepily.

"Much, probably," Robin said, opening the door. "Oh, the bounty!"

"What are you on about?" Marian leaned out of the bed for a bit of clothing. The closest thing to her was his shirt. She pulled it on, satisfied that the hem fell well past her bum, she rolled up her sleeves and joined him at the door. It seemed the gang had put out quite a spread. "Oh!" Marian picked up a large basket and brought it inside; Robin carried a long bundle that looked like kindling. She opened the basket at the table, mindful of her crown of (wilting) flowers. Inside was fresh milk, bread, a few apples and pears, a fair bit of bacon, some ale, and sweet cakes and honey. In short, everything one might need for a bridal breakfast. As she unpacked a few things, she noticed their plates, cups, and utensils underneath it all.

"What is in yours?" Marian asked.

Robin unwrapped the rags. "Wedding Gifts for you, methinks. They know I need nothing."

"Nonsense, the food is for you," she tried to joke, but her words stilled on her lips when she saw the polished, Saracen bow in Robin's hand. It was slightly smaller than his, but beautifully worked. "Oh, Will," she breathed.

"We also each have a toasting fork," he commented.

She only had eyes for the bow. Her own had burned with her house. Marian had been using spare bows at the camp, but missed the curves of her old long bow, and liked the recurved design of the Saracens'. Will had promised to make her a new bow, but then she went back to the castle… she should have known he would have made her one anyway. "Did you know about this?" Marian took it into her hands and stroked the yew.

Robin shrugged. "I did not know he had finished it. Do you like it?"

"It is beautiful. May we go sight it?" she made a move to string it.

"Oh, I rather thought…" he trailed off.

She stilled. "Yes?"

"Well, we cannot let this food go to waste."

She laughed and rested the bow against the wall. "Perhaps you are right. And I hardly think I can go shoot my bow wearing only your shirt."

"Oh, I have no qualms about that," he teased, wrapping his arms around her. "In fact, let the record state that you may wear my shirt whenever you wish."

She whispered in his ear, "What if I do not wish to wear any clothing at all?"

"Then I shall have to take it off you." In one moment, he was as good as his word and the shirt was on the floor again.

She giggled and scooted back to the bed. Robin surprised her and pulled the basket and the few items she had unpacked onto the bed, following her under the blanket.

"Breakfast in bed?"

"Seems appropriate," Robin said.

"Then, sir, remove your trousers. For if I must be bare, than so must you."

Robin hastened out of them, pushing them out of the bed. Both still wore their ribbons around their wrists. Marian pulled the blankets up to her chest before dishing food onto their wooden plates. His left arm was around her shoulders and the two lovers broke their fast. At the bottom of the basket, Marian discovered a new outlaw tag.

"Welcome to the gang," Robin whispered in her ear.

She knew that her honeymoon was over, and that her new life had begun.

* * *

It was hot; hotter than he had remembered. Carter's recent adventure in Sherwood had ruined him for the desert. He already missed the cool forest, full of its greenery. But he had a job to do, and that job included convincing his King to return to England, to put her back on her feet. Especially since most of his funds and many of his knights came from that green land.

The crusader's cross felt heavy on Carter's chest as he led his horse down the gangplank to the waiting sands.

" _ Crusader? _ " asked a man at the dock, in Arabic, the language of the Turk.

" _ Yes," _ came Carter's response. The red cross and white cassock revealed all anyway.

The man said a string of words so quickly that Carter's rudimentary Arabic could not follow.

" _ Sorry?" _ he tried, hoping the man would slow down.

"You – Late!. Lionheart gone. Peace, Crusader." The last was meant as a blessing.

Carter returned the blessing and thanked the dock-man. He was glad of the peace, but where was Richard now? With a worried heart, he turned and led his horse back up the gangplank to negotiate his return to Europe with the Captain. He had a king to find.


	3. A Plot or Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Courage is grace under pressure." ~Ernest Hemingway

The warmth of summer quickly dissipated, as did the Honeymoon atmosphere in the camp. While Marian and Robin shared a bunk, out of respect for the gang they often found moments to slip away to just be themselves for a while. Loving-making in the camp with… witnesses, seemed cruel to all concerned. The slipping away would have to stop soon, as the weather turned to chill.

Still, there was plenty to occupy their time; daily drop points, random charity cases, spying on the Sheriff, not to mention all the daily tasks of hunting, cooking, cleaning, patching up clothes (or wounds)…. Marian often went to bed exhausted at the end of every day. And as the nights grew colder, the gang usually piled all their bedding right in the middle of camp and slept in a giant heap. Such an arrangement would have made the old Marian cringe and turn away, but the truth was, the gang could not have a fire when the roof of the camp was closed, and there would be no other way to keep warm when the snow fell from the sky. And with everyone still layered in all their clothes (including at least two pairs of socks), there was not much chance of anything untoward happening.

In a way, Marian had never been happier. Sure, she was an outlaw (or would be declared one any day now), and sure she was still missing her father. But she was married to the man she loved, and supported and needed by a small community. She (usually) had enough food in her belly, a roof over her head, and she was doing what she could to help the poor. As an added bonus, she did not have to keep Guy at arm's length any longer. Marian had not realized how much effort it took to dodge the affections of a man so possessive.

Though according to Friar Tuck (with whom they now had regular contact with) Guy was still pursuing her, despite the fact that he had no idea where she was. He visited Ripley convent (which turned out to be where Tuck was from) and was very frustrated not to find her there. And occasionally, the gang intercepted missives from Guy to outlying convents and religious orders. The letters were going further and further afield, and Marian could almost see his fury in his quill-strokes. All in search of her. Robin joked that he was going to check every convent in England, Wales, Scotland, and even west to Ireland and south to France. Marian did not find it so funny. She had no idea he could be so persistent (though Djaq had pointed out if he was so desperate to find her, why did he not leave the Sheriff and search for her himself?).

And all the time, she was in the same county as him, nestled in the forest with Robin and the gang.

"Do you know what day it is?" Robin asked Much as they made their way back from Nettlestone Village having just handed out vital food and a bit of money.

"The eighth of September. The King's birthday," Much replied.

"Yes," said Robin. "I was thinking perhaps we could have a celebration tonight. Break into Marian's ale…." Marian had picked up a few tips from various housewives; how to get bread to rise perfectly, how to plant a vegetable garden in full shade, and how to make ale. Marian had become quite accomplished at the tasks due to a combination of being tired of Much's mystery meat at every meal, used to a more comfortable life, and an inability to show her face with the gang without getting on all her Nightwatchman gear. Marian of old might have resisted these tasks, but now she was glad to be of use, other than the use of her new bow. (And there was still plenty of that to be had.)

"We might shoot a stag…" Much tried. They did not often eat the King's venison. "Surely on his birthday, he would not mind."

It was then they stumbled across something, or someone, unexpected. A deep voice boomed, "ROBIN! MUCH!"

Robin looked to Much in confusion. When he saw Much had not recognized the voice either, they both reached for their weapons. Much unsheathed his sword; Robin nocked an arrow to his bow.

"Show yourself!" Robin bellowed.

The underbrush crashed and a tall man ambled out with his hands held up. "I have been waiting for you two for three days!" he rumbled.

"Legrand?" Much asked in awe.

"What are you doing here?" Robin asked, lowering his bow.

"Looking for you, old friends," Legrand clenched them both in a giant hug. If Little John was tall, then this man was a giant. Tall and largely built, Legrand struck fear into many hearts. And with good reason; his reputation on the battle field was formidable.

"Thank you, Legrand, but you might want to keep your voice down," Robin said amicably. "We are outlaws, as you have no doubt heard."

"I would not be looking for you in the woods if I had not."

"Master, we should move," Much pointed out nervously.

"He is right; we do not normally use roads. C'mon, Legrand," Robin said, leading the way into the underbrush.

Much scouted around, and when he saw no one, he fell into step with his compatriots. Orry Legrand had served with Much, Robin, and many others in the King's Guard in Acre. He was French, like King Richard, and Robin and Much had originally met Legrand in Bordeaux when training with then Prince Richard. Upon his coronation, Robin had been made Captain of the King's Guard and set off with him to Crusade, and Legrand, an excellent tournamenter went along with many of the other men who trained with the King. Including one Thomas Carter.

"What news do you bring, Legrand? Did you meet Carter?" Robin asked.

"Toly Cater, you mean? He is King Richard's special favorite. Calls him 'Blondel.' No, he left the Holy Land before we did. He did not return to us, did he?" Legrand was making a conscious effort to keep his voice low, but try as he might, it carried.

"Uh," said Much.

"We sent him with a message to the King," Robin insisted.

"Robin, you only need one messenger. We got Lardner." Legrand told them.

"You mean the King is returning? Peace is declared?" Robin asked.

"Well… let me share the rest of my news first. Where is your camp?" asked Legrand.

Much leaned on the lever and the roof popped up, revealing the outlaw's camp. The gang was there, hands never idle. All four looked up in confusion. Will had created another entrance that they could use without letting all the heat out of the camp by raising it dramatically.

"Just here," Robin said simply. "Lads, ladies, meet Orry Legrand, member of the King's guard and King's messenger."

"Queen's, actually," Legrand strolled in, calling a correction.

"Berengaria?" Marian asked after Richard's wife.

"N-no," Legrand stuttered. "Her majesty, Eleanor of the Aquitaine."

"Well, go on then," said Robin shut the camp behind them and settled next to Marian. She always did know her affairs of state, even remembering a queen that was constantly forgotten (and quite forgettable in Robin's opinion).

"To be honest, I am not so much a messenger as I am a scout."

"Eleanor is  _ here _ ?" Robin was incredulous.

"Not here, as you see. But secreted at the Convent of Ripley. And she wishes to meet with you and your gang," Legrand went on.

"Can she ride out to meet us? We cannot enter the Abbey," Robin asked.

"Djaq and I can," Marian pointed out.

"The rest of her guards are garrisoned nearby the Abbey, we shall meet there tomorrow. I am lucky I found you today, Robin," Legrand said.

"Robin, tomorrow is Wednesday. We need to be in Nottingham for market day," Little John reminded Robin.

Robin bit his lip and turned to Marian to think.

"You have a plan?" she asked him.

"Half a plan. Her Majesty does not speak much English. You and I go meet the Queen, the rest of the gang go to Nottingham. Meet at Vespers in Locksley?" Robin turned to the rest of the gang. They all nodded; no one had any objections. "Legrand?"

"My only instructions were to bring you, Robin," he said simply.

"What else do you have by way of news?" Much asked.

"I am afraid her Majesty wishes to be the one to share that. It is not my place."

"Very well. Do you need to return tonight?" Robin asked.

"No, I am due back tomorrow. I have been sleeping rough these past two nights, looking for you. I did not realize how damp your England is."

"Well, then stay with us," Robin said. "We have enough food for you, and as you see, our camp is dry, thanks to our carpenter, Will."

It occurred to Robin now to make introductions. Legrand's eyes lingered over Djaq, but he did not comment, trusting Robin and Much's judgment. To Marian, he gave a knowing look and said, "M'lady," though Robin had not mentioned any titles. Clearly he remembered her name from when Robin spoke it in the Holy Land.

Any celebrations of the King's birthday were forgotten as the gang settled in to talk to Legrand. He was not very forthcoming with any useful information, but at least they had someone to spin some new yarns, instead of hearing the same stories over and over again. Even Djaq's stories that were supposed to last a Sultan one thousand and one nights were wearing a bit thin, as they all followed the same theme of jilted lovers and cuckolded husbands.

That night, piled together on the floor of the camp, Legrand's snores rang out louder than Little John's.

"The Queen is in Nottingham, what could this mean, Robin?" Marian whispered. She could barely hear herself over the racket Little John and Legrand were making.

"I do not know. But I think perhaps the King is not in the Holy Land. But where is he, if not here or in France with his mother and Queen?" Robin questioned.

"Do you think it means peace?"

"Maybe for the Holy Land, but not for Nottingham, not yet," said Robin. "For where is Richard? Will he bring an army? Is that what we are meeting Eleanor for?"

Marian frowned. "Guessing will not help us. Whatever it is, we shall find out tomorrow, and we shall see it through."

* * *

Robin was up with the sun the next morning, the gang and Legrand up after him. Not much needed to be said, the gang knew what to do, and Marian slipped into her Nightwatchman gear (so as not to show her face to anyone, not even people of the religious community she was about to visit).

"I grow tired of wearing this disguise," she said before drawing the handkerchief over her mouth.

Robin squeezed her hand. "It was your idea, my love."

"Nevertheless, I miss using my voice."

"I think her Majesty's chambers will be secret enough for you to take off your mask and be heard, Marian."

Marian felt her stomach flutter at meeting the formidable Eleanor. She was nervous. Robin had met her, her own father had met her at court, but Marian never had. Having admired this woman's strength for so long, Marian felt rather dazed at the idea of being in her presence.

The horses were soon saddled, and Marian, Robin, and Legrand were on their way to the Abbey. It was a short ride there through the changing leaves of Sherwood Forest. Marian enjoyed the flaming red and orange leaves, like a forest on fire. Even though it heralded the coming winter, there was a sort of stark beauty of autumn that she appreciated. They passed the ride in silence, preferring speed above all else.

Before long, they left the forest and arrived at the small Abbey. There were nuns and monks working in the gardens, some sisters praying in the labyrinth, some out just enjoying the weak, autumn sun. Legrand led them around the gardens and behind the Abbey to what looked like an unused cowshed.

"A garrison?"

"I may have exaggerated our numbers. There are six of us, including myself."

Robin nodded. Marian held in a chuckle as they stepped inside. Warriors for the King: now a neat dozen. Robin knew everyone from either the King's Guard, or his time in Richard's Court. He made introductions to Marian (who had never been more grateful that her father had her instructed in French when she was a girl). Marian had taken off her mask, kerchief, and hood, allowing everyone to know who she was.

Someone sent a signal to the Abbey, or perhaps it was just the agreed upon time, for not long after, Eleanor of Aquitaine entered the cleaned out cowshed. In an instant, all eight were on their feet.

"Do not stand on ceremony on my account, lads. And lady," she greeted them, dispensing even with the Royal "We" that she was entitled to use.

"Your Majesty," Robin bowed, ignoring her demand. "Might I introduce my bride, the Lady Marian of Knighton?

"You may, little Lord Robin. I remember you from the old days, before Richard brought you all on crusade." She turned to Marian. "I am pleased to meet you, my dear."

Marian curtseyed. "Your Majesty."

"I meant it about the etiquette. Enough! My news for Robin Hood will not wait a moment longer." She settled on the only chair in the room, the rest settled on benches and piles of clean hay. And odd place for a mighty queen to hold court, but there was nothing for it.

"Robin, the King, my son, has had your note by way of a pigeon, and has made peace with the Turk. Salah-ad-din will allow Christian crusaders into Jerusalem again. That is no long Our fight."

"Your Majesty, if there is peace in the Holy Land, where is King Richard now?" Robin implored.

"I am coming to that, Robin, please be patient. I am spinning you a tale. Salah-ad-din was a fearsome enemy, to be sure, but a chivalrous one, as you no doubt recall. I think, were it not for this war and the differences in religion, he and Richard might have been friends. Or at the very least, allies. Unfortunately for my son, he made some new enemies in the Holy Land. Do you recall Duke Leopold of Austria?"

Robin thought for a moment. "Vaguely. I cannot remember him getting along with our King."

"Just so," Eleanor went on. "Jealous of Richard's military prowess, I expect, he had complained to Pope Celestine III. Whom has arrested Richard upon his return to Europe. Richard is now imprisoned somewhere on the Continent. There is a ransom of 150,000 marks," she ended heavily.

Marian's eyes bulged. "Your Majesty, excuse me, but 150,000 marks, that is… twice the annual revenue of England!"

Eleanor gave her a cutting look, "You think I do not know this, Marian? I am still a Queen here, as well as in my homeland. You are a country knight's daughter, married to an outlaw. We all understand what is at stake here."

Marian winced at the reprimand; Robin squeezed her hand.

"Is there no one who can look for him?" Robin asked.

"We have been searching, but no such luck. I hardly think Leopold or Celestine would be stupid enough to leave an obvious trail, nor foolish enough to try and throw off any would-be rescuers."

"Your Majesty, I cannot offer you much aid, nor can I leave Nottinghamshire to search for Richard myself. However, I know a man who might have a few coins to spare for your coffers…."

So Eleanor agreed to wait two days more before moving on for Robin to try and… raise a few funds for Richard's ransom.

To Locksley went Marian and Robin to meet with the gang.

"You have a plan?" she asked around the kerchief that covered her mouth.

"Half a plan," he said.

Marian sighed. Robin did not hear it over the sounds of their horse hooves, but he could tell by her posture, by the haughty way she carried her head, that something was amiss.

And had he taken a moment to ask, he would have been right. Marian had long looked up to Eleanor. She had been made a Queen twice – first by Louis VII of France, and when he annulled their marriage because she did not give him any sons, she had run off with Henry II of England. And given him too many sons, who in turn fought over their parents' lands. Henry had at one point imprisoned Eleanor; they were constantly butting heads, but by all accounts, still very much in love. Yet each had backed a different son: Eleanor supported Richard; Henry, John. She had won, Richard was on the throne (for now, at least); she was a fighter, a survivor, like Marian wanted to be. But Marian hoped she was more compassionate than Eleanor. She sighed again. The most she could do was help Robin.

They arrived at Locksley and up to Burdand the Blacksmith's stable, leaving their horses and going up to the hayloft. It was hot up there, belying the cooling weather outside.

"Is your plan complete?" she asked him.

"Well, I was just thinking, it had been a while since we have cleaned out the Sheriff's storeroom for him. Surely the Black Knights would have stored something of value there by now."

"How do we get in?" Marian smiled.

"There is no 'we' this time, Marian. I cannot risk you being found out in the castle."

The smile fell away from her lips. "I will not stay in the woods!"

"You must!" Robin pleaded.

"I am not a simple country woman, Robin! I can help you! Please, let me!"

Robin stopped before she could really shout. "I never said you were a simple country woman, Marian. Whyever would you think that?"

She huffed. "Let me feel as if I am of use."

"Who said you were not useful?" he demanded.

Marian fell silent, and Robin remembered… Eleanor had been dismissive of Marian just a little while ago. While Marian was a force to be reckoned with in Nottingham, to the Queen's eyes, she must have looked very unworldly. In a way, Marian was not very worldly, but on the other hand, she did not have to keep the balance of power at the same level of Eleanor. Not that she could not if she had to, but rather, she had not been exposed to it.

"My love, I will not bring you on this mission, not because you are not useful, but because you are too valuable. I cannot lose you, and the Sheriff and Gisbourne know that if you were caught, that I would do anything to get you back. It is my weakness, not yours," he said, reaching for her hand. She batted it away. "I know Eleanor can be… abrasive. But she is a good woman, and were she not so worried for her favorite son, she would likely be much more pleasant. You two are a lot alike. Too alike."

"How can you compare me to her?"

"Marian, yesterday that would have been the highest honor for you. Do not let this chance encounter spoil your image of her. She has done much good in this world, and for England. She works to bring Richard home, which makes her our ally." He reached out to her again. This time she did not push him away. Robin wrapped her in his arms.

"I have not been dismissed so easily by one we consider an ally," she said, snaking her arms around his waist.

"It is because she does not know you well enough, my love. But me, I know you are not to be dismissed." He kissed her, and she responded to his lips. "Now, it is a few hours yet until Vespers. What do you suppose we do with this time?"

She winked at him and pulled him in for another kiss.

* * *

"Explain it again," Much said, rubbing his temples.

The gang had joined Robin and Marian in the hayloft of the blacksmith.

"The King has been kidnapped and being held for ransom," Robin said. "Eleanor was here to ask us for our help."

"We cannot leave Nottingham," John said.

"We will not leave Nottingham," Marian agreed.

"But you still want to help," Djaq commented.

"Naturally. This is what we do, lads," Robin said.

"How?" asked Will.

"Like I told Marian. We have not helped the Sheriff clean out his strong room in a while…."

"How are we going to get in?" Much demanded.

"Sneakily," said Robin, slowly.

Just then, the sound of horse hooves interrupted their discourse. Robin made his way to a small window that looked out over the one road in Locksley village. The horses belonged to Gisbourne and Allan.

"Allan's saddle bags are packed," Robin observed. He turned to the gang. "Will, go out and see if you cannot figure out what is going on."

Will pulled up his cloak and stalked to the trapdoor, pulling it open carefully and climbing down the ladder. They listened for his footsteps, then the creak of the back door opening and closing.

After a few moments more, Robin asked, "So, any ideas on how to break into the strong room?"

"Simple, direct, at night," said Little John. "No disguises, no dallying, just in and out."

"I agree, Robin, you have no reason to linger inside the castle," Marian pointed out.

"Yeah, the reason we normally hung about is sitting next to us," Much agreed, and leaned over and pulled a stalk of hay out of Marian's hair.

Marian blushed. She thought she had combed all the hay out of her hair. Next time, she would make Robin check her (although his eyes on her normally led to activities that were more amorous than tidy).

"Can we not sneak in near the kitchens? The wall is lower there," Djaq said.

"No good," Much said. "They have posted extra guards there, one of the kids in Nottingham told me so today. He has been having a harder time of it, stealing scraps.

"What about nearer the kennels?" Marian suggested.

The gang laughed.

"No, I am serious! The dogs are normally patrolling the corridors around midnight, you could sneak in there. There is usually only a guard or two there, you can dispense with them easily enough."

"It is an idea…" Robin bit his lip in though.

"Master, you cannot be serious," Much whined.

"It makes sense. And the Sheriff would never expect us to be so bold. Marian knows the castle better than any of use, she was there most recently."

"It is a good plan," Little John added his support.

"I am in," Djaq said. "I like dogs."

"We just have to make sure Will is with the plan," Robin said.

"What of me? You never listen to me; I am saying it is not a good idea," Much tried his case.

"That is because you are afraid of dogs," Little John pointed out.

"Like you were afraid of caves, but that cave might have saved Marian's life," Robin argued.

"Much, I would not have suggested it if I had thought it unsafe. Please believe me when I say it is the best way in and out of the castle right now," Marian pleaded.

Much sighed. "Very well. If Will agrees, I agree. I cannot fight all of you."

Marian squeezed Much's shoulder. "Do not forget that not only do I send all my friends inside, I also send my husband. Please trust me, Much."

"Yes, I trust you," Much said, wriggling away from her touch.

At that moment, Will burst back through the trapdoor.

"What news from Gisbourne?" asked Robin.

"He and Allan ride to Lincoln, searching for Lady Marian," Will nodded to said lady. "They leave tomorrow morning at first bells, and will not return until Monday at the earliest."

"That is a long time to be away," Marian said slowly.

Robin shrugged. "Suits us."

"I just hope he is not torturing little old nuns to get to Marian," Much pointed out.

Will settled on a haybale near Djaq. "Do we have a plan?"

"Only if you also agree to it," Much said.

"Midnight, tomorrow night, we enter the castle near the kennels, where the wall is low. We break into the strong room, steal as much as we can carry, then escape via the kennels," Robin outlined.

"What of the dogs in the kennels?" asked Will.

"The guards take them on patrol at midnight, every night," Marian said.

"Useful bit of knowledge," said John.

"Yeah, how come you never told us that before, Marian?" Djaq wondered.

Marian glanced at Robin and said, "I did not entertain midnight visitors."


	4. A Theft or Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Courage is the greatest of all virtues, because if you haven't courage, you may not have an opportunity to use any of the others." ~Samuel Johnson

"Will you take the horses, my love?" Marian asked. It was after nightfall and the gang was leaving soon.

"Yes, but I thought we would leave them in the woods. It is too difficult to hide them in Nottingham, not to mention getting away unseen," Robin said, filling his quiver with arrows and preparing his armguard. He was very particular about his costume, being light to wear and dark, to blend in with the shadows. They had both wrapped their handfasting ribbons around the grips of their bows.

She nodded.

"What will you do while we are gone?" he asked.

"I thought… I would go to Locksley," she said, trying to sound innocent.

"Marian, no!"

"Why not?" she demanded.

"Because I cannot protect you there!"

"And I will not be able to protect you in the castle. We are even."

"Marian-"

"Gisbourne will not be there, and I can handle his goons. I told you the safest way into the castle I know. You will not be able to prevent me from going."

Robin sighed, clearly unhappy, but knowing she was right, and knowing he had to trust her. "Very well, but be  _ safe _ ."

"You too, my love. I could not bear it if-"

"Do not say it," he put his finger to her lips. She kissed it. "I love you," he whispered.

"I love you, too."

They did not say anything more, what more was there to say? Marian pulled on her Nightwatchman gear and separated herself from the gang. She rode her horse to Locksley, the gang took off towards Nottingham.

_ Always different directions, _ thought Robin. But to the same end, at least. He smiled grimly into the night and led his band to Nottingham.

It was not long to Nottingham, and the gang left their horses in the safety of the trees, just in case. The five of them drew their hoods and stalked to the city gates. They made it in without incident (security was oddly lax after the near burning, more than a month ago, now). The gang was in no position to complain.

A short stroll through the narrow, less frequented streets, populated by drunken men and ladies of the night. All turned a blind eye to five hooded figures (knowing full well who they were, and that they themselves shared in the bounty that Robin Hood collected).

They walked past the kitchens (still smelling of tonight's supper) and stopped near to where they knew the kennels to be. It was a place normally avoided by most of the populace; they were well hidden in the shadows. The gang was a bit early, and waited to hear the tell tale sounds of rounds to begin; barking dogs being leashed, visors being lowered, swords being sheathed. A few moments past midnight bells, the kennels on the other side of the wall grew quiet. Even the dog noises were gone.

Silently, Robin shot an arrow with a rope attached up the wall. He pulled at the rope, hoping it would hold his weight. If not, he had a grappling hook, which was more effective, but louder too. Robin tugged several times before deeming it safe. He began to climb when Djaq tapped on his shoulder, indicating that she wanted to go first (being lightest). Djaq climbed without a sound, tied off the rope to a more secure place, and lowered two more. When the gang was at the top of the narrow parapet walk, they dropped the ropes into the kennel and scurried down. The gang wasted no time in going to the strong room.

Robin and Much had practically grown up in the castle; they knew many routes and corridors and passages, frequented by servants and unchecked by lazy, content guards. And as long as there were able to remain quiet, they were safe. The trick was to break into the strong room after the guards checked it. Robin's boots slid on the stone floor, so worn were they. He made no sound as he checked the corridor, then motioned to Will to coax the wooden door open.

In almost no time at all, the gang was on their way again, saddle bags bulging and pockets full. Trying not to jingle, they made their way back to the kennel and up to the top of the wall.

Djaq and Will dropped the ropes to the other side. Robin had just been thinking that this had been too easy when they heard the guards and the dogs return. All five tensed. They clearly could not remain at the top of the wall, and Robin nodded – go down the wall while the guards were busy with the hounds. They scurried down as quickly as possible, leaving the ropes and counting on the shadows to hide the ropes, for a little bit. There was nothing for it, and no way to get them down.

Robin exhaled quietly. If they had waited just a minute longer….

Hearts pounding, the gang slipped out of Nottingham and back to the tree-line.

Robin entered the camp to find Marian already there, four large saddlebags bursting of money and goods, with her Nightwatchman mask settled on top of them.

She was pouring some mulled wine that she had finished making. "How did you do?" she asked.

"I do not know, we have not counted yet," said Much, pulling out his cup and going to Marian's pan.

The gang tossed their loot next to Marian's and all helped themselves to the wine before settling in, completely giddy, to count their haul.

* * *

"Your Majesty," Robin said, lowering his hood and bowing low. It was the next day; the gang was exhausted from being up most of the night, counting and recounting. They had met the Queen and her retinue in a glen near the abbey (Tuck leading the Queen to the place which was used as a drop on Tuesdays).

"Robin Hood," she said with a smile, seeing the outlaws' prideful grins. "Merry men, and women," she greeted all.

"Might I present, for the coffers of King Richard's ransom, exactly 3000 pounds?" he lifted a cloak off a pile of unmarked saddle bags.

Her eyes light up. "So much?"

Robin shrugged. "Some of the valuable items are an estimate. We cannot give you an exact price on the jewelry. But we estimated low." He and the gang began helping the Queens scouts attach them to saddles.

"Robin, you imp. I thank you for your generosity. This will help, I hope. I hate to tax your fine country any more; I see John is breaking all of your backs. I would reprimand him if he had not stopped listening to me when he was six." She shrugged. "There is nothing for it. But at this rate, Richard will be home soon."

Robin bowed again. "And any more funds that we can donate to the cause will be sent through religious means," he said, nodding to Tuck. "This Abbey has been helpful to us in the past, and will be happy to help us now.

"Aye," said Tuck. "Her Majesty and I have made plans to that regard."

"Good," said Robin. "And this is for your journey." He presented the Queen with an outlaw's tag. "This is a tag that tells everyone in Nottingham that you are my ally. Please wear it until you are in safer pastures."

Eleanor reached out her hand and took the tag. "Ingenious!" She put it on, the simplicity of it contrasted with her fine robes. "Well, I think that will be all, then Robin. I thank you again, but we must be on our way," she said as she took the reins of her horse.

"A moment, your Majesty!" Marian said suddenly.

The Queen paused in her saddle, "What is it, my dear?"

Marian was busy taking off her own outlaw tag. She untied the knot and slid her green ring from Robin off the string. Handing it to Eleanor, she said simply, "For the ransom. And I have a friend in Bavaria, Count Friedrich Berthold Otto von Wittelsbach who might be of use. Tell him my name."

Eleanor gave Marian an appraising look, turning the ring over in her left hand. "I will keep his name in mind. Thank you, Marian."

Marian curtseyed and the Queen and her scouts (remnants of the King's Guard that had been scattered to the four winds) rode along one of the deer trails out of sight.

Robin laced his fingers in with those on her right hand. Her left still clutched her tag.

"You gave her our ring."

"It was more use to us off my finger. Or tag. It serves the King, now."

"Yes," he agreed.

She squeezed his hand and they followed the rest of Robin's men back to the camp.

* * *

It was Monday night, very late, and Guy and Allan rode to Nottingham (Guy had not yet gone to Locksley to check on his lands).

The Sheriff was not there to meet him. This was not unusual. Guy told Allan to take care of the horses and he went into the Great Hall to meet with Vaisey.

The Sheriff was sitting in his chair on the dais, lounging with some document, and looking for all the world like a man with absolutely nothing to do.

"My Lord Sheriff."

"Did you find your leprous, fickle woman, Gisbourne?"

"No, I-"

"Good. I have heard from Prince John, and he may have work for us."

"My Lord?"

"Yes, listen closely. Apparently Richard has been taken prisoner outside of Vienna by Duke Leopold of Austria. Some nonsense about Richard killing Leopold's cousin, or taking down his standard in Austria or some other minor crime, blah-de-blah-de-blah. John is hoping to pay off Leopold to keep Richard until May at the earliest. So we can finish consolidating  _ our _ position." The Sheriff leapt to his feet, suddenly all action. "He needs 80,000 marks."

"So much?" Gisbourne was incredulous.

"A fraction of Richard's ransom, I assure you," the Sheriff cackled.

"How much is in the strong room?" Gisbourne asked.

"2,876 pounds," the Sheriff rattled off as he led the way. "You and your man Allan are to escort it to London, along with any money or baubles you will be giving to the cause. And a new tax will be going out on Monday; the ransom tax."

He was laughing maniacally as he opened the strong room, cast his eyes around. His cackle died and rotted in his throat.

Guy was suddenly fearful. "What is it, my Lord?"

Suddenly the Sheriff was all action, and furious. "MY STRONG ROOM, YOU DOLT. IT IS A WONDER I EVEN HAVE A  _ DOOR _ ON IT. TELL ME,  _ GISBOURNE _ , DID YOU  _ GIVE  _ ROBIN HOOD A KEY?"

"My Lord, I-" Guy started, but was quickly interrupted.

"I DO  _ NOT  _ WANT TO HEAR IT. NOW YOU FIND OUT  _ HOW _ HE GOT IN AND OUT UNSEEN. YOU WILL NOT REST UNTIL YOU DO THIS."

Guy rushed out of the Great Hall to find Allan as the Sheriff ranted and raved about the outlaws who had cleaned him out. Again.

It was Allan who discovered the means of entry. He untied Djaq's knots and wound up the lengths of rope, and hid them in his own chambers without telling Guy. The Sheriff kept them to his word, however. Guy and Allan were kept on their feet for a day and a half looking for the way in until Allan made something up about the kitchens. It did not satisfy the Sheriff, but it did allow them to get some sleep.

The next day, Guy was not happy to find out that he also had been robbed while he was away, but was too exhausted (and too embarrassed) to say anything about it to the Sheriff.

* * *

Toly Carter, sometimes known as Blondel, arrived in Naples on a cool September day. He took instantly to a local tavern that Richard had stopped off in on their way to the Holy Land (so many years ago, now). It was still there, full of Italian men drinking their strong, lemony drinks that tasted like a perfect sunny day. Earlier, Carter had traded his Crusader tunic for something a little rougher and obtained a seashell pin, to mark him as a man on a pilgrimage. In a way, it was true.

The innkeeper's wife looked up as Carter entered her establishment. Carter recognized her right away, with her small, compact, and very dark features; she was a warm woman and very kind to English and French crusaders. She wore a small, finely carved wooden cross on a chain, probably her most prized possession, between her ample breasts.

"Peace, traveler," she said in French. Being an innkeeper near a holy place had forced her to learn a little bit of many tongues.

"Peace," he greeted her in the same language. "I was hoping for a little wine, or perhaps, a little English ale?"

She gave him a shrewd look. "Nay, we have no ale, but if you go north, you may be able to find some. Vienna. "Limoncello?"

Carter nodded and the innkeeper's wife poured.


	5. Loyalty Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "What more can they tell you?  
I am neither good nor bad but a man,  
and they will then associate the danger  
of my life, which you know  
and which with your passion you shared." 
> 
> From the poem "And Because Love Battles" by Pablo Neruda

Eleanor taxed the landowners, and she taxed the Church, a quarter of their value, and gold and silver. Robin tried to turn a blind eye to it; it would not have been so bad if he knew that the money the Sheriff collected was actually going to the King (he suspected it was going to London, but not much further than that). The gang had managed to steal a bit back, giving it back to the populace.

Tuck had been 'redistributing' near Clun when he had been arrested by some of the Sheriff's men. The crime he had been arrested for (drunk in the streets) had been arbitrary; a means to empty the brother's jingling pockets. When twenty pounds had been discovered, they dragged him to Nottingham in a creaky cart.

It did not take long for the Sheriff's gaoler to work out that Tuck worked for Robin Hood (alcohol acting like a truth serum for the honest monk).

The Sheriff was delighted as he called Gisbourne and Allan to his chambers.

"My Lord, you cannot hang a monk!" Gisbourne explained when hearing the Sheriff's plan.

"Oh,  _ spare _ me your piety, Gisbourne! The Church steals more than we do, and for what? The Pope and the poor. We may as well give to Robin Hood! He dangles at dawn! And, this may be our chance to draw Hood out."

"Yeah," said Allan, "But not bein' funny, when we hang a member of the Church, does that mean we go straight to Hell?"

The Sheriff chuckled, "I did not realize you were superstitious, Allan-A-Dale. Hell is just a story Churchy-folks tell to keep the rest of us from hanging them."

The Sheriff marched out to make further plans with his gaoler.

Guy followed him out to make plans with his garrison, to make sure they were ready for Hood. Allan tried to sneak away.

"Where are you going, Allan?" Gisbourne asked in his oily fashion.

"Well, I thought, since there is no Hell… you know, sins of the flesh, and all that," Allan lied.

Gisbourne gave him an appraising look. "Use a kitchen maid. They are cheaper."

"Nah," said Allan. "It should be one I do not see every day. Otherwise, the other girls might get jealous." He tried to laugh.

Guy narrowed his eyes. "Be back in an hour."

Allan left without another word. He ran to his room to fetch something to prove his honesty, then took his horse and rode to the forest. He sought a maid, all right, but not for wenching. Robin did not need more reason to slit Allan-A-Dale's throat.

* * *

The Nightwatchman and Djaq were making their way from their drop point when Allan intercepted them. "Marian! Djaq!"

The women had drawn their swords when they heard the horse-hooves. Marian wore her Nightwatchman gear, but Allan had known her secret almost as long as Robin.

"What do you want, Allan?" The Nightwatchman asked dangerously, her words muffled slightly by the kerchief she wore.

"I bring news from the castle! I am trying to  _ help  _ you," Allan insisted, his hands in the air, hoping his horse would hold steady, that the swords would not spook the beast.

"How are we supposed to believe that?" Djaq was incredulous.

"You have a man, right? A monk? Tuck?" Allan said quickly.

The Nightwatchman asked, "What would give you that idea?"

"Because he was picked up by the Sheriff's men for being drunk and for fighting back. And because he could not help his pockets jingling. He was not wearing a tag, but he dropped Robin's name…. The Sheriff intends to hang him at dawn. And if Robin or any of you lot come to rescue him, it will be all the more merry on the gallows," Allan explained.

The Nightwatchman looked to Djaq, who nodded.

Allan looked between the two of them in bewilderment, not understanding the nod. "Look, I know you two will listen to reason. You can trust me! I know you robbed the Sheriff of over two thousand pounds. I know you came over the wall by the kennels." He pulled their three ropes out of his jacket and tossed them into the dust. "I have not told the Sheriff, or Guy, or anyone. If you want to save your brotherly friend, it will have to be tonight." With that, Allan took the reins and fled back to Nottingham.

Djaq and the Nightwatchman sheathed their swords.

"Do you think he was telling the truth?" Djaq wondered.

"I think one of the few things Allan fears is Hell-fire, which is guaranteed if he allows a monk to hang."

"Yet, do we trust him?"

"We have to; Robin will never forgive himself if Tuck swings. We can say we heard it in town; we do not have to even mention Allan's name," the Nightwatchman planned.

* * *

"Robin!" the women called as the burst through the door of the camp.

The four men looked up in alarm.

"What has happened?" Robin demanded.

"Tuck has been taken – he mentioned your name," Marian spat out, lowering her kerchief. "The Sheriff is to hang him at dawn."

Robin sat down heavily. Everyone looked to their leader. "We have to rescue him," said Robin resolutely.

"But since the Sheriff knows he works for us, you know he will lay a trap," Marian reasoned. "Remember Allan's brother…."

"We shall have to rescue him tonight," said Much decisively.

"How?" asked Little John.

"Over the wall," said Will.

"The kennels," said Djaq. "It worked before." She shrugged.

"We left the ropes there," said Robin. They have to have been discovered by now."

"Then there would be more security there," said Much. "Perhaps no one noticed? Maybe they are still there!"

"We should not count on that," Marian said quickly.

"We go tonight, then," Robin agreed.

"The Nightwatchman comes too," Marian told him firmly.

He looked to her face to argue, and then decided to save his strength.

"Very well. The Nightwatchman comes too."

They left almost immediately for Nottingham, each taking a horse and tying them to the tree-line in the twilight. Soon it was properly dark and they could make their way into Nottingham, keeping as always to the shadows.

It was as if Allan had charmed the place with his gambler's luck, for once again they went over the wall without a hitch; the kennels were empty. They creeped their way to the dungeons, the few guards they saw were in twos and threes and passed through without incident. They arrived at the dungeon and Much made short, quiet work of the gaoler.

"Robin!" Tuck whispered urgently.

Robin put his finger to his lips, indicating the brother should be quiet. In a flash, Robin had his key out (that Marian had stolen for him ages ago) and tried the lock. The door opened easily. "You would think the Sheriff would change his locks," Robin whispered with a wink.

"You know 'tis expensive to do so," Tuck admonished.

"We can discuss it later," Robin hissed, leading the monk out.

All was quiet throughout the castle, apart from conversation from a few guards.

"All these extra rounds," one complained. "And to the tallest turrets! That damn Allan-A-Dale!"

"Ah, but he is a good lad, and quick enough to lose his money," commented his companion with a chuckle.

Robin's eyes darkened, the Nightwatchman squeezed his shoulder, and the left the castle.

"Thank you, my sons and daughters," Tuck nearly burst into tears when they reached the horses again.

Robin and the Nightwatchman doubled up so the brother could ride with a horse. "Do not mention it, sir," Robin said, wrapping his arms around the waist of the Nightwatchman to hold on. "Believe me when I say I would do it for anyone here."

Much helped Tuck onto the back of his horse then mounted his own.

"Shall we see you to your Abbey?" Djaq asked.

"Yes, but know I am a dead man, like you," said Tuck. "I shall have to seek out the Abbot and ask him to grant sanctuary."

"Oh," said Djaq.

All knew their number had just grown by one, at the very least for the night.

"To the camp," said Robin heavily.

Will began whittling the monk a tag that same night as he kept the first watch.

* * *

Allan watched them go, his old gang, as they fled into the night. He wished he could follow them, but he knew that he could help them here. He could take Marian's place. Glancing around, he left his window and followed the corridors in secret to the parapet above the kennels, untied the three ropes and hid them again in his room. He then made sure to shadow Guy for the rest of the night, hoping to secure an alibi. Just in case.

It did not take long the following morn for the Sheriff to discover something new missing from his castle, and for Guy and Allan to fruitlessly resume combing the castle in search of an entry point. Vaisey was careful not to show his face in Nottingham that day, lest the shame of losing a prisoner from his gaol become known to the populace.

* * *

Carter found himself in uncharted territory. While he was hesitant to call Vienna a  _ city _ , it was a hub of activity. The market place was easy enough to find as Vienna still followed the old Roman footprint. There, he settled in to wait and watch to see what, if any, other pilgrims were doing. It was very cold; Carter drew his thin cloak over his shoulders more tightly.

"Pilgrim?" some old woman asked several hours later in French with a broken accent and over broken teeth.

"Yes," said Carter in French. "Do you know of where I might stay?"

She shook her head in confusion.  _ Damn it all _ , Carter thought. He knew none of her language, nor what language to speak. He tried Latin. "Do you know of where I might stay?"

Her eyes lit up. "Come," she said in French, then for good measure repeated the directive in Latin, "Veni!"

Clearly she did not know much Latin either, but led him to a local Church and rang the bell. A priest came to the door and she prattled at him for a few moments, then turned to Carter expectantly.

"Do you know of where I might stay?" Carter asked for the third time that evening, the first time in Latin.

"Here, my son. Come in," the priest said, stepping aside. He bowed to the woman who left, clearly pleased with herself that she had done a good turn.

"We do not get many pilgrims," said the priest. "Tell me, where are you going?" He talked as he led Carter into the church, then north from the altar to the priest's quarters.

"Where the love of my Lord might take me," Carter said. It was not the first time he had said this, and as long as he did not specify an  _ Earthly _ Lord, most were content to leave it at that. The room into which he was led was sparsely furnished; still there was a place for both to sit. Carter settled on a hard bench. The priest pulled him up and settled him instead into a wooden chair with a back and a cushion.

"Well, my son, you are perfectly welcome to stay here as long as you or the Lord might wish it."

"Thank you," said Carter.

"But do tell me, where are you from, and what is your name?" He poured some ale for his guest.

"My name is Blondel," said Carter. He gave the King's nickname for him instead of his real name, and had been giving it out in the hopes the name might reach the King. "I come from France, but most recently come of Rome." He drank greedily. It was dry in the room, and the fire crackled on the hearth.

"The eternal city! Tell me, what is it like?"

"I will tell you presently, good father, but first, tell me of Vienna? I have never been here before."

"There is not much to tell," said the priest. We are a margraviate, under control of the Babenberg family, presently ruled by Duke Leopold X. We have some local commerce, and the capital of this land of lower Austria. We also have a monastery nearby, founded by the English King Henry II. Scottish and Irish men, have your travels brought you to either of those places? Perhaps those men would like to hear of home?"

"No, sir, but I have lately been in England."

The priest looked as if he might say something, but bit his tongue.

Carter's eyes widened. "What is it, sir?"

"Nothing! 'Tis nothing. Just strange you should mention England."

"Why should you think it strange?" Carter wondered.

"Blondel, I should not tell falsehoods. Nor even spread rumors."

"It is no falsehood to say the English King is taken by your Duke," said Carter very quietly.

"Hush, fool! Is that why you come here to Vienna? In search of your King? What part of the Land of the Franks come you? Near Aquitaine, I should think?"

Carter bowed his head.

"You may stay the night," said the priest sharply. "You will have to sleep rough on the floor. And in the morning, you should be on your way again. And seek your crusader-King south of here," the priest's voice dropped. "Dürnstein." He stood again and took instantly to his bed.

Carter lounged near the fire, warming his bones. Help came from the strangest places, even if this priest was careful to conceal his loyalties.

He was gone before the priest could awake the next morning.


	6. Whistling in the Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> O come, O come, Emmanuel  
And ransom captive Israel  
That mourns in lonely exile here  
Until the Son of God appear  
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel  
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

It was Christmas, and through the goodness of Tuck's Abbey (who had granted Tuck sanctuary easily, hating the Sheriff as they did), they were able to deliver extra food parcels and a little money to the most needy families in Nottingham. And they were even able to have a little bit left over for themselves. Enough for a small feast (and enough to stop even Much's hunger).

Marian caught Robin's eyes, and the two slipped out of the camp (everyone noticed, but as usual when they slinked off, no one commented).

"A ride?" Robin asked, grinning.

Marian flushed ( _ It is the cold _ , she told herself). "To the stables," she agreed with a smile.

They tramped through the powdery snow to the stables and saddled their favorite horse, Marian (the better rider of the two) at the reins, Robin spooned up behind her, as she put the horse through his paces. It was exhilarating, warm food in her stomach, Robin's arms around her waist, and a horse beneath her. She felt warm and free and happy… she rode the horse to the tallest tree in Sherwood. They had not been there since their handfasting. Robin dismounted and then helped Marian off the horse. She tied the rein to a branch, and the two embraced. Marian had not been alone with her husband in quite some time. His beard was really becoming quite bushy and it tickled her face when he kissed her.

After quite a while at the kissing, she paused to take a breath and to say, "I have small something for you."

"You should not have worried, Marian, I have everything I need in the world" he asked. His arms tightened around her. Despite his words, he looked absolutely delighted.

"Yes, I should have; it is our first Christmas as husband and wife, and I wanted you to have something to remember it by."

If he brushed it before, he had not noticed, or had not said anything, and his arms were around her waist. The gift was tied to her belt and hidden by her cloak. She pulled it forth; it was wrapped in a shirt of hers (having nothing better to wrap a present for him in). It looked like a short, narrow lump.

He released his hold on her and slowly unwrapped her shirt, handing it back to her solemnly before looking at what was in his hand. "A hunting horn!" he exclaimed.

"Yes," she smiled. "I thought it may be useful."

He kissed her soundly then tried it out; the note seemed to break the silence around them. A flock of birds launched themselves noisily out of a bush nearby and into the skies.

"You like it then?"

"I love it. And I love you, for thinking of me, my darling." He looped the long strap over his shoulder. "I have something for you too, Marian."

Her eyes flashed with amusement. "And you would lecture me on gift giving?"

He shrugged. "This is also a useful gift. I swear to you, our first Christmas in Locksley, I will shower you with such pointless, useless treasures-"

She pressed a finger to his lips. "Take care, my love. Those are dreams. We deal in realities, remember?"

He smiled, kissed her finger, and said, "My apologies." He reached into his pocket and said "Close your eyes."

She shot him a doubtful look, but followed his direction. He took her hand in his and placed something very, very soft in her palm.

"Open them."

She opened her eyes and looked to his face before at her hand. He looked so excited that Marian could not help but think that she finally believed that giving was better than receiving. Then she glanced down.

"Oh!" In her palm was a beautiful pair of gloves, finely made of doe-skin hide. "Robin, they are perfect!" She slipped her hands into the softness, still warm from being in his pocket. He took her hands in his.

"Your hands were so red from cold; it has been such a hard winter. I am sorry, my love."

"Robin, you cannot control the weather. Spring will come again. We are doing well, surviving, and helping the poor. And if that same winter necessitated these lovely gloves, well, I cannot be angry, can I?" She kissed him and then said, "Remember, I chose this life. Do you want me to go back to the castle, where I will be warm and dry, and Gisbourne can give me presents for Christmas?"

He sighed and rested his forehead on hers. "You are right, of course." He kissed her softly, then stepped back and pulled his knife from its hilt.

Marian watched as Robin carved a heart on the trunk of the tree, and inside of it made their mark, an 'R' and an 'M'."

"Are you going to do that to every tree in Sherwood?"

"Just the ones we were married under."

"What about the one you proposed under?"

He thought for a moment, then said, "Well, there is a corpse there…."

She laughed. "Put your dagger away, Robin, for I am going to throw myself into your arms."

They resumed their earlier activities until both grew too cold (despite Marian's new gloves). They hauled themselves back up on the horse and rode through the wood, Robin trying out his new horn every once in awhile (carefully turning away so not to blow into her ears).

Before slipping back into the camp, he pulled her into one last clinch, savoring her lips again.

"Merry Christmas, Robin."

"Merry Christmas, Marian."

* * *

Djaq was never very good at hiding her emotions. While it was true she never practiced (preferring instead to let her emotions fuel her actions in battle), she could not have been good at it if she had tried.

Christmas Eve had never been such a torture. Maybe it was Much, Little John, and Friar Tuck drunkenly singing their carols (off key). Maybe it was Marian and Robin sneaking off, then returning looking rosy-cheeked and pleased with themselves. Maybe it was… she was too close to everyone in the camp, like she had not had a moment to herself to simply breathe in  _ weeks _ . It had been much too cold to wash, and she would not pray to Allah  _ dirty _ . Better to skip the prayers altogether, in Djaq's mind.

"I need some air," Djaq announced, pulling on her cloak and rushing out into the night. She did not look back.

The cold air burned in her lungs, but it was much better than the close smelling air in the camp (even if it froze the inside of her nostrils. She could not bring herself to care at the moment). She started to walk, careful to leave a trail through the snow so she would find her way back and not freeze to death in this stupid, wintry country.

She soon found a log and settled on it, looking at the stars (so different here than at home).

Djaq was so lost in thought that when Will settled next to her, she jumped.

"You startled me!" she exclaimed.

"I am sorry. Are you alright?"

"No."

Will sat in silence. He would not push the subject, she knew. He was so very quiet, so gentle. Will Scarlet would never be the force of nature that Robin was, or the irritating, jabbering Much. Even his silence was different than Little John's. Little John was a mountain that everyone moved around. Will was… a slender tree, bending in the wind. Constantly growing, observing, but so quietly that you hardly noticed.

"I could not listen to those stupid carols a moment longer," Djaq told him.

"They are not the best of singers," admitted Will.

She sighed. He did not understand.

"What holy days do you observe?" he asked her.

_ Then again _ …. Djaq thought. "Have you heard of Ramadan?"

"No," he said. "Not yet."

"It is the wrong time of year for Ramadan," Djaq said primly. "Essentially, it is a time where you fast all day and study the Koran. You break your fast with your family when the sun goes down. It lasts about a month."

"That sounds like a very long month," Will commented. "You do not observe it here," he added.

"No."

He did not pursue it. He did change track. "You know, Christmas… is when we celebrate the birth of Christ."

"Of which I am aware," said Djaq.

"And often, we exchange gifts," Will said carefully. "With friends and family. Because we… care for them. Well…."

Djaq watched as Will, usually so calm, awkwardly reached into a pocket in his cloak.

"Here," he said thrusting something at her.

Djaq reached out and took it from his hand. She was touched that he had made her… "A spoon? Thank you." It was dark, but with her fingers, she traced his fine carvings. "It is too pretty to use every day, Will."

"I did not make it to be practical."

Though it was dark, she could see his face flush in the starlight. Djaq was mystified. "Will, what is this? I do not understand your strange English customs."

"Do not worry about it," said Will suddenly, briskly. "Use it in good health." He stood to skulk away.

"Will Scarlet. How can I use it properly, good health or poor, if I do not understand the gift's meaning?"

He stopped, his back to her. He did not turn around. "It is a loving-spoon. To show you how much I admire you." And with that, he seemed to vanish into the darkness.

He did not wait to see her surprise. Djaq studied the spoon with her fingers and gave him a six minute head-start before walking back herself. (If she waited any longer, she was liable to turn into an icicle.)

Will admired her? Why? What could he have to admire about her? What exactly did he see? Her scientist's mind turned it over, but she could not see any compatibility. They had so many differences!

Djaq did not know what to think, but as luck would have it, Will avoided her (as much as one can avoid another when sharing a camp bed with several other people) the rest of the night. She kept the spoon in her pocket, fingering it lightly whenever she got the chance.

* * *

Christmas Eve found Toly Carter sneaking through the darkness towards Dürnstein Castle. The castle was awash with light, and such noise from holiday revelries echoed around the stone walls. Around his person, he carried a rough cloak for the King to wear, and wrapped around his waist several times was a stout rope that had cost him much of his savings. Blondel had very little money left.

He came to the gate, and begged for sanctuary, being a good Christian pilgrim. Sanctuary was granted, and he was led to the kitchens to warm his bones and to eat some scraps from the table.

"Where do you hail from?" asked the housekeeper in French.

"Marseilles," lied Carter.

He gave Carter a shrewd look, but went about his business and left the pilgrim in peace.

After the bells tolled Midnight, then One, then Two, that the revelry would last until dawn, and with everyone in such high spirits (in perhaps more ways than one), that this night would be the most opportune time to try and find the King.

He asked the cook where the privy was (perhaps "asking" was too fine a word – the cook did not speak French, or Latin, so Carter grabbed his own crotch and the cook pointed in a general direction) and left the kitchen confidentially.

And Carter, roaming the castle, began to sing as if drunk and lost;

_ I am on fire with a love  
_ _ Which compels me to sing;  
_ _ I act like a man taken by surprise  
_ _ Who cannot resist.  
_ _ And yet I have gained something  
_ _ To boast of:  
_ _ That I long ago learned  
_ _ To love loyally.  
_ _ My thoughts are of her  
_ _ And always will be;  
_ __ I shall never seek to transfer them.

It was a song he had dreamed up in the Holy Land for Richard the Lionheart (though ostentatiously in honor of his wife, Berengaria).

_ The memory of her face,  
_ _ Rosy and bright,  
_ _ Has so penetrated my heart  
_ _ That I cannot remove it;  
_ _ And since I have asked for these pains  
_ _ I must endure them.  
_ _ No this is mistaken–  
_ _ I should rather love them.  
_ _ Whatever I may say,  
_ _ There is nothing to be done, I think.  
_ __ Except to cry for mercy.

Up and down stairwells, down corridors, through unlocked doors, getting lost in the maze of Dürnstein Castle, Carter sang and sang again. Passing tapestries and paintings and doors to dark and empty rooms. Hoping that one (and only one) would hear. Then, quietly, as if a soft echo, Carter heard in response;

_ No one ever saw a fairer lady  
_ _ either of form or of face;  
_ _ Nature has never endowed anything  
_ _ with more beauty.  
_ _ For her I shall continue the tradition  
_ _ of Aeneas and Paris,  
_ _ of Tristan and Pyramus,  
_ _ all of whom loved long ago.  
_ _ Now I shall be their ally,  
_ _ And now I pray to God above,  
_ __ That I might share their fate.

Carter began towards the sound, singing louder this time;

_ The memory of her face,  
_ _ rosy and bright,  
_ _ has so penetrated my heart  
_ _ that I cannot remove it;  
_ _ and since I have asked for these pains  
_ _ I must endure them.  
_ And again, in answer,  
_ No this is mistaken–  
_ _ I should rather love them.  
_ _ Whatever I may say,  
_ _ there is nothing to be done, I think.  
_ __ Except to cry for mercy.

He had found him! The King! Carter rushed to a solid door and whispered, "Your Majesty?"

"Blondel, is that your honeyed voice?"

"It is, my Lord," Carter whispered back. "I am here to rescue you."

"Well do so in a hurry, Blondel. No crusader should be locked up!"

From his pocket, Carter drew a knife and a hairpin, and slowly, painfully, picked the lock. It took a good deal of time, longer than he expected. He had grown rusty at lock-picking. He and Thomas used to pick the locks on their father's armory and practice with the horde within, chain mail, lances, broad sword they could hardly lift…. Finally, he heard the tumblers budge and give way. Carter flung the door outward; it creaked noisily.

He fell to his King's feet. "Your Majesty!"

"Rise, Blondel," said Richard imperiously (but quietly).

Carter did as he was bid and the King greeted him with a kiss to each cheek.

"Your Majesty, I have with me a simple pilgrim's cloak, and a rope. We might use a window out here? It overlooks some small copse of trees, we might escape in there?"

"We chose Our new Captain well, Blondel. It pained Us when you left, and so soon after Our dear Robin."

"Robin aids your majesty as well, Your Majesty. But now is not the time to discuss it. We must depart," Carter admonished softly, handing over the cloak.

Richard took off his fine robe and donned the cloak. "Let Us go," he agreed.

Carter tied off the rope and tossed it out the window. In a flash, they were outside the walls, breathing in the bracing, Austrian air and running for the cluster of trees.

"Now, what is this about Robin Good-Fellow?" King Richard gasped.

"It is a long tale, my Lord," Carter warned him. "And we have a long journey. It begins with his festering wound that caused You to send him home…." Carter began the tale as they escaped into the cold light of dawn. "Loyal Much following, as he always does, on foot from the coast to Nottingham, stopping little along the way in their haste. They stopped along the way to prevent injustice to an unknown man, who was later named as Allan-A-Dale…."


	7. The Devil is Loose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Battles are won by slaughter and maneuver. The greater the general, the more he contributes in maneuver, the less he demands in slaughter." ~Winston Churchill

It was too cold for laundry, yet Marian could not handle the close smell of the camp any longer, so she instructed Will to help her collect every spare piece of clothing to take it to Ibb the laundress in Clun for washing. They would pay to have clean things (for once). She wished she could give the whole camp a proper airing out, but unfortunately, the winter had been bitterly cold. Raising the camp's cover was out of the question, in the hope of preserving what little heat it managed to hold.

And she wanted to talk to Will – he and Djaq had been behaving… oddly. Not arguing, but being too polite. In decidedly  _ un- _ polite society.

They were stripping camp beds of their blankets; Marian was just about to ask when Robin came charging in to find her and Will.

"What is this?" he asked.

"I thought we would take our laundry into Clun," Marian began.

"Never mind that," he interrupted, reaching for some arrows to pack his quiver.

Marian huffed.

He went on, not hearing (or not caring). "There is a man on a horse traipsing along on the Great North Road. We have work to do. Much, Little John, and Djaq are tracking him."

She was already pulling on her gear. Will had picked up his own cloak and axe.

"Let us go," Will said quietly.

The left all the linens in disarray and took off into the woods.

"The thing is, his standard looked familiar, but I cannot place it. His hood is drawn, and I cannot make out his face," Robin complained.

"So you do not know if he is a friend or an enemy," Marian said.

"Exactly. Though he is only one, I would rather have all of us."

Will shrugged. Marian thought how she did not want to do laundry anyway.

Robin easily tracked the rest of the gang; despite the knight's mount, he was going painfully slow. Marian soon saw why – judging by the slow pace and the awkward way he held himself in the saddle, he had a severe case of saddle sores.

"He must have been going for days," Marian whispered to Robin.

He nodded, his eyes all business. Silently, Robin hurried to the bend in the road, then "appeared" in front of the Knight, as if he was one of the fey, and able to come and go as he chose.

The horse reared up, the gang crept up behind.

"Greetings, my Lord," called Robin with a mocking bow.

The horse calmed; the knight had kept his seat.

"Robin?" came a wizened voice.

The outlaw straightened at once, watching as the man lowered his hood. Underneath was an elderly man, as old as their fathers might have been had they lived.

"Sir Richard of the Lea!" Robin greeted, bowing respectfully this time.

"Truly?" called Marian, and rushed around to greet the old man herself, pulling off her disguise. He was a knight that had served with her father. She and Robin had both known him since childhood. As a small girl, Marian had sat upon his knee and begged him for stories of London, played with his daughter Aldith who was exactly the same age. Marian had given him up for lost when he went to crusade, and Robin's never mentioning of him led her to believe the worst.

"Robin of Locksley, Marian of Knighton, is it really you two who have caused so much trouble in Nottingham?"

"I am afraid so, sir," Robin admitted.

"Can we help you with something, Sir Richard?" Marian asked, anxious to get off the road while her disguise was off.

"Oh, I hate to impose, when you two have nothing," said Sir Richard.

"Six," said Robin. "But we  _ should _ get away from this road."

Richard dismounted, and Marian led the horse into the forest.

"Sir Richard," greeted Much formally.

"Why, Much!" smiled Sir Richard, overjoyed to see him. He clamped him into a hug. "Robin's right-hand man. How  _ are _ you, m'boy?"

Much grinned, "I am well, my Lord."

"I never pinned you for the life of an outlaw. Are they feeding you enough?" he whispered conspiratorially.

"Not as much as I would like, but we all have equal shares," Much said fairly.

"So long as Robin is not starving you. But then, he always was a fair master to you," Sir Richard allowed.

"What was that?" Robin turned around and began walking backwards. "I heard my name."

"Robin, walk normal – you are going to fall," Little John admonished.

"No, I will not!" Robin insisted. "It is beneath my digni-"

-he stumbled and fell on his rump. The gang burst into laughter, Sir Richard too.

"We were saying what a glorious leader you are, Robin," teased Sir Richard.

Will offered Robin a hand up. Robin was smiling. "Indeed," he laughed.

They reached a small clearing. Much settled Sir Richard down on a fallen log, Marian saw to his horse. Robin made introductions; all greeted Sir Richard kindly. Clearly this was a man Robin, Marian, and Much respected.

"How can we help, Sir Richard?" Robin began.

"Well, it seems that after we left with the King," he nodded towards Robin and Much, "your father," he nodded to Marian "lost his seat, and this new Vaisey became Sheriff. My daughter Aldith and her husband Sir David of Doncaster were looking after my properties, as they are to inherit anyway, but the Sheriff confiscated them for his own. And it seems that not only did he take my land, but he also decided that his running my property was in my favor, and I have run a debt with him."

"How much?" Robin asked.

"Five hundred pounds."

Little John whistled.

"And neither you nor your daughter has the means to pay it back?" Robin asked.

"That is correct," Sir Richard said glumly. "She pawned some jewels to some Jewish money-lenders, and Sir David had some money. He had just collected his taxes. Or course, Prince John collected most of  _ that _ for His Majesty's ransom. But it works out to three hundred and twenty-six pounds."

"You are nearly there!" Robin crowed. "Of course, that will not be enough. Vaisey the Villain will require it all."

"Vaisey the Villain?" Marian teased.

Robin shrugged off her mockery. "Sir Richard, if you like, we can get you the remaining… one hundred…"

"One hundred and seventy four," Will supplied.

"One hundred and seventy four pounds," continued Robin. "If you agree to pay us back in due course, and to be a friend to the poor."

"I- yes, of course!" cried Sir Richard, tears starting in his eyes.

"Very well, you shall have one hundred and seventy four pounds," Robin said grandly. "Will? Djaq? Will you go fetch it and bring it back?"

Djaq looked wary, but both nodded and took to the woods.

"Only thing is, I hate to see the Sheriff with five hundred pounds," Robin said slowly.

"You have some scheme to get it back?" Much asked warily.

"Not yet, but I will do," Robin promised.

* * *

Will marched through the forest, uphill and down, as fast as his long legs could carry him. Yet he never seemed out of breath. Djaq, while small and slight, could not keep up with his long legs.

Frustrated, she stopped, placed her hands on her hips, and called, "Will Scarlet, are you angry with me?"

He turned to face her. "No."

"Then what is this? What are we dancing around? You have not spoken to me once since you gave me your spoon."

He stopped, his shoulders tense. "I told you. I admire you. I carved it because I thought you would like it. It is a tradition here, even those who have nothing can offer small tokens of affection," he said quietly.

"You already said you admired me."

"Yes," he conceded.

"And?"

"Well, you have not said if you…. Forget it," he turned away from her.

"No," she demanded. "Finish your sentence."

Will turned around again to see she had not moved an inch. ' _ Stubborn woman!' _ he could not help but think. "I do not know where you stand on the matter!"

She opened her mouth to say something, then caught a small breath. The sound hung between them before Djaq said with her silly (adorable) accent, "I do not know how I feel on the matter. You… caught me off guard, Will Scarlet. I do not think about… relationships. Not really."

"Well, if you have to think about it, I guess you do not… feel the same way I do."

"Can you give me time? I am not going anywhere. You better not be going anywhere. We have time. Can I not think?"

Will conceded. "I am sorry I caught you off guard. Take as much time as you need."

He set a slower pace this time, and the two collected the one hundred and seventy four pounds to bring back to Robin.

* * *

A few days passed, and Robin still had not thought of a way to get the money back.

Marian and Will finally took the laundry to Clun. Once again, Marian intended on asking Will about Djaq (as they had become suddenly warmer towards each other again). Once again, she was interrupted, this time, by Allan-A-Dale.

Marian was in her Nightwatchman gear, waiting just behind the tree-line as Will and Ibb dragged the laundry back to her house.

"Greetings, Nightwatchman," his familiar voice saluted her.

"What news, Allan?"

Did you help Sir Richard pay off his debts?"

"Depends who is asking," Marian said, keeping a wary eye out for anyone who might overhear.

"Well, the Sheriff does not keep much money in his strongroom anymore. Seems to think ol' Robin has a key. So he is shipping it south to London Sunday, after Mass. He is hoping Robin will be in church somewhere and miss the convoy."

"By which way will it go?"

"By way of Nettlestone."

The farthest away from the camp. "By your suggestion?"

"By Giz's suggestion," Allan told her.

"Who else knows?" she asked, unwilling to make Allan a target.

"All the guards that are going. And be sure that this will be guarded."

"Well guarded?"

"The Sheriff is willing to spare six men."

"Very well, thank you, Allan.

He blew her a kiss and blended back in with the shadows. Just in time; Will turned up moments later.

"Ibb says come back tomorrow."

"Hmm? Yes," said Marian distractedly. She was no longer interested in Will and Djaq's drama. She had to think of a way to get Robin in Nettlestone on Sunday.

* * *

Saturday afternoon, the Nightwatchman and Djaq returned from Nettlestone Village. On the way back, she informed Djaq of her information she received from Allan.

Djaq only had once question, "Why does the Sheriff think Robin goes to Mass?"

The Nightwatchman shrugged. "He sometimes does, you know."

"Not in the Winter," Djaq laughed.

"No," she agreed. "I thought we would tell Robin that some of the children in Nettlestone have fevers. Nothing dangerous, but perhaps they could use a bit of extra food tomorrow."

Djaq shrugged. It was as good a plan as any. Robin had a soft spot for children, but did not talk to them too frequently. You could never control what a child would say to someone who perhaps was best left unaware of Robin's movements. Like a guard. "Is this how you make men think your ideas are their own?" Djaq asked.

The Nightwatchman cocked her head to the side, studying her friend. "It is sometimes easier this way."

Djaq chuckled.

The pair made their way back to the camp, Much and Will had beaten them there. They were preparing a broth from a bone that had been boiled for soup too many times. Will had managed to get some bread while in Nottingham today. Soft bread would do wonders for their spirits.

"How goes it in Nettlestone?" Will asked, his eyes searching out Djaq's.

_ Damn _ , though Marian, she kept meaning to ask those two what was going on between them. She suspected…  _ well never mind that _ . "A few of the children have small fevers. I wonder if we might take some of this bread to them?" she told them, peeling off her mask and kerchief.

Djaq nodded and was just about to add her support when Little John and Robin burst in through the door, home from Knighton village.

"What is the news, ladies and lads?" he crowed.

"Marian was just telling us there are a few feverish children in Nettlestone."

Robin frowned.

Djaq said, "But Will and Much got bread in Nottingham, we can share with the three families in need."

"Agreed," said Robin, nodding his head.

"Tomorrow," said Little John. He was a gruff old man, but wanted to do right by all the children he met, in honor of his own little John.

Robin settled down next to Marian and threw his arm across her shoulders, as much from affection as from sharing warmth.

"Which houses?"

"Djaq and I will point them out," Marian said.

"Can you and Djaq just take them?" Robin asked.

"I thought we all might go," Marian suggested, not meeting his eyes.

"And do what?" he asked. "Mop their fevered brows?"

"Robin…" Marian said plaintively.

Djaq pulled Robin's attention, "We all should go. It will be good for us to do a drop point as a full unit again."

"Alright, alright," Robin conceded. "We go in the morning. Will, make sure we bring them some wood for their fires, too."

* * *

It was snowing softly as they made their way to Nettlestone. It was picturesque in its silence. When the gang began knocking on doors, the village seemed surprised to see the gang back so soon.

"We heard there were children with fevers," Robin insisted.

Diot the Candlemaker planted her fists on her hips. "Well, young Bruce, Elric's son, has the sniffles, but only a low fever, no more."

"Are you sure?" Robin insisted.

"A'course I am sure, Robin! Do you think I do not know my own village!"

Robin held up his hand to silent her. He could hear horses. Guards. The Sheriff's money, bound for London. Without a word, the gang dropped their bundles of vittles and firewood and pressed on to the road. They kept to the woods, watching and waiting.

"Sheriff's men, six of them. Headed South," Robin whispered. "What errand, do you think?"

"Perhaps Sir Richard's money?" Much suggested.

The Nightwatchman smiled under her kerchief. Her fingers danced over the center of her bow, playing with her green ribbon under her gloved hands.

"Right," Robin went. "I will take out the leader, all of you take a guard, Marian, cover me while I take the chest."

All nodded and assigned themselves a guard before Robin let loose an arrow, pinning a man's leg to his saddle. His scream of pain shattered the air.

The guards immediately drew their swords and surrounded the chest they were escorting.

"Stand down," Robin strode out of his cover. "All of you are covered. Now, hand over the goods before your captain bleeds out."

In unison, they looked to him in question. The injured man gritted his teeth and nodded.

The Sheriff really did not pay his guards enough to risk their lives, and injury had a way of making one face their own mortality.

Robin shook the snow out of his hair. He and Little John took the chest and dragged it to the forest. Will, Djaq, and the Nightwatchman stood their guard while Robin, Little John, and Much emptied the heavy trunk into saddle bags that were much easier to maneuver through the woods.

"My thanks to the Sheriff!" he crowed as the gang slipped into the shadows, pulling it over them like the hoods they wore.

* * *

Back at the camp, Robin had his gang pack quickly. "We go to Sir Richard's manor," Robin informed them. "He needs to pay his debt to his daughter. And to us."

They readied their horses, Will and Much prepared the camp for a few days absence, securing everything tightly and removing what little food they had and packing for their journey.

It was nearing twilight before they made it to Sir Richard's manor, north of Sherwood.

Sir Richard and his servants must have heard the riders approach, for they were out to greet the gang. As for Sir Richard, he was shocked to see the gang so soon.

"Robin! Marian! Much! All of you, what a pleasure to see you so soon!"

"We got lucky, sir," Robin said, dismounting.

The rest climbed down from their horses and laid their saddle bags of his money at Sir Richard's feet.

Sir Richard clasped each of them to his chest in turn, kissing their cheeks, thanking them.

"Of course, one hundred seventy four of this is our," Robin teased.

"Nay, I think you shall have a round two hundred," Sir Richard said. For the poor. Aldith can wait for the rest. She is not expecting it any time soon. And you six are welcome to stay with me, the night, the week, or until Spring."

"Sir Richard, we could not encroach on your hospitality for so long," Marian said.

"Could we not?" Much asked quietly.

"Much is right. I owe you six. I would not have my home were it not for you. You shared with me when I had nothing. It has been a harsh winter. Let me open my doors for you," Sir Richard begged.

"Well…," Robin quickly searched the faces of his gang, his eyes lingering longest in Marian's. She gave him a blank look, not letting her own desire for a warm bed and clean linens get the better of him. But they were all so thin and it  _ had  _ been an icy winter. "How would we help the poor of Nottingham?"

"Tuck," said Will.

"And you know I will help you in any way I can, Robin," Sir Richard said magnanimously. "Horses, food, money," he winked. "Only stay. Get your strength. Let me help you as you have helped me."

"We would be happy to," Robin finally said. "Only I hope you know how much six warriors can eat, my friend."

"We have all been in the wars," Sir Richard said thoughtfully. "I well remember."

As if anyone could forget.


	8. The Sweetness of Our Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The woods and the rivers are silent  
And the waveless sea is at rest  
In their caves, the winds are at truce and peace.  
And in the dark night  
The white moon creates lofty silence  
And we keep hidden  
The sweetness of our love.  
Translation of "The Woods and the Rivers are Silent" as sung by the Mediæval Bæbes.

Robin woke up… cold. It was not so unfamiliar that it would have woken him. But he had not felt cold in a while. Not since living in Sir Richard's comfortable manor house, sharing a soft bed with his lady-wife.

Perhaps  _ that _ was why he was cold, he thought, when he cracked his left eye open and noticed she was not next to him, black hair tangled into a mess to pillow her head. Opening his right, he noticed that she had taken the heaviest coverlet.  _ Where had she gone? To be the Nightwatchman? They had discussed that…. _ But she would have been back by now, surely?

He sat up then noticed her form wrapped up in the blanket, sitting on a trunk that she had evidently pushed beneath the window.

"Marian, my love?" he asked gently.

"Hmmm?" she asked, turning to face him. By the dawn-light of the window, he could see her eyes were rimmed with tears.

"What is wrong, darling?" He launched himself out of the bed and curled up on the bench next to her, careful to cover both of them with the blanket.

"I- it is, or was, my father's birthday." Marian wiped her cheeks and turned her face to the window again to watch as light returned to the world.

Robin's heart ached for her. They had not spoken much of the past, or the future, preferring not to live on their dreams. In fact, they rarely discussed their dreams. "How old would he have been?" he asked.

"Seven and sixty," she sniffed, but did not turn to face him.

Robin took her hand and stroked the back with his thumb. "He was a good man. The best of men."

"He was," she agreed. "I needed him so much. I  _ need _ him so much."

Robin squeezed her hand again. "You never really get over it, but it does get better with time. I promise."

"Helpful, Robin," she said, sounding as if she had a head cold, still refusing to look at him.

He shrugged. "I do try."

"I cannot believe that it has been nine months since he passed." She rested her forehead on his shoulder, hiding her eyes.

He wrapped his arms around her loosely. "We have been busy," Robin reminded her.

"Yes," she answered.

"Come back to bed, my love," he pleaded softly.

She nodded but did not move. Robin pulled her gently off the chest into his arms, carried her to bed, and tucked her in.

"Where are you going?" she asked as he pulled on a shirt.

"I thought… breakfast?"

"In bed?"

"Why not?" He crawled across the bed to her. Robin kissed her forehead and said, "Your Father told us that it is good to dream. But we have been avoiding them our entire marriage. Not very good of us to ignore his advice. I thought perhaps we might spend a day in bed and not do anything practical. No Vaisey, no drop points, no Nightwatchman, and no Robin Hood. You, me, memories, and visions of our future."

She gave him a watery smile. "Yes, I think that sounds like a good plan."

Robin went down to the kitchens and sweet-talked the cook into giving him a large bowl of porridge, sweetened with honey, and two spoons. He also put some bread, withered apples and a bit of sausage in a bag before he climbed the stairs again. He skidded into their chamber.

"That was fast," she commented, wiping her nose on a handkerchief.

"I could not keep you waiting long," he told her. He set the porridge on the bedside table, built up the fire and locked the door.

He inched into bed next to her and passed her a spoon.

"Thank you," she said primly, taking the spoon.

"You are welcome, my heart."

They ate in companionable silence (he ate, she picked at and swallowed a few bites) and when they finished, Robin set the bowl on the table. She curled up into him.

"I love you," Marian whispered.

"I love you," he told her, rubbing her back. "You know, you are dealing with this much better than when my father died."

"Well, I am hardly going to run off to a crusade."

Robin sighed. "Marian…"

She tensed. "Robin, I am sorry. I meant it as a jest, I swear…"

"It is fine. I am sorry."

"No I am sorry."

"So we are both sorry," he tightened his hold on her. "I am… I know I should tell you about the crusade, and I will, I just… I need more time. I think."

Marian kissed his chest (careful to skirt his scar, which he loathed her to touch, even over his shirt), "Take your time, my love. I am here. It does not have to be today."

"It was… dreadful. I do not like to talk about it."

"To anyone? Do you talk to Much?" she asked, concerned for both of them.

"No," admitted Robin quietly.

"Robin, you should talk to him. You know Much keeps silent on your account, but he needs to talk more than you do, and..." she trailed off.

"And?" he prompted her.

"And… your nightmares. It may help with your nightmares."

Robin exhaled slowly. Marian was hoping he would not be angry. Instead, Robin fell silent for a few moments. She watched his Adam's apple bob a few times, as if swallowing something vile.

"I… I was not aware that they disturbed you." He rolled to his back. His left arm was still loosely around her, but his right he used to pillow his head.

"Robin!" she told him sharply. She rose on her elbow to try and meet his eyes. "It is not that I am annoyed that sometimes you wake me up with your terrors. That is the least of it, believe me. I fear rather for your soul, for what your nightmares mean to you. Perhaps if you told me, if I knew the root of them, I could help you."

He laughed humorlessly. "My soul? Truly? It is beyond helping. You have married a broken man. I should never have taken you as a wife."

Her right eyebrow rose. "What are you saying?"

"I think my meaning is clear."

"We are only handfasted, Robin, as you well remember," she said, suddenly too proud to care about what words were tumbling from her lips.

He flinched, but did not meet her eyes. "That is so."

"Do you want this to end in a few months?" Marian asked, trying to hide her hurt.

Robin sighed. "Of course not."

"Then why would you wound me in this way? Why would you even  _ suggest _ it?" she asked quietly, and she could hear the tears threatening in her own voice.

Finally Robin's eyes met hers. Almost instantly, he read the pain in her eyes and crushed her to him, kissing her. It was sometimes this way. Robin's way with her was usually so gentle, so reverent, so unlike the reputation of a crusader or an outlaw. Yet when they argued, when either of them were hurt, the tone of their lovemaking was desperate, frantic, and they became as distracted as possible.

After, breathing very heavily, Marian let loose the tears she had been holding back.

"Do  _ not _ leave me, Robin. Not again, I fear – I fear I would not survive without you. I cannot - Where would I go? I have no home, no Father, no other family than you, than the gang! Robin,  _ do not _ -"

Robin kissed her again. She was trembling, as if with cold. He gathered her tightly in his arms again, and pulled the heavy coverlet up to their chins.

"Do not," she added weakly.

"Never," he vowed. "I am sorry I spoke those words. I cannot have been in my right mind."

She sniffed. "You might see yourself as broken, my love, but I do not see it that way. I think, instead, that you make me whole."

"Perhaps."

"I am hardly in mint condition," she indicated her tears.

"Mayhap we are so broken because we were broken in two for so long. When I was in the Holy Land…" his breath caught.

"Yes?"

"When I thought of England, I could not picture it. Not Locksley, not London, not the damned white cliffs that made Dover famous- sorry for cursing."

"Do not apologize. Continue," she commanded.

"What I did see was  _ you _ , taking target practice, your eyes flashing when you hit the center. Or your hair floating free when we would go swimming. Or your hands, curled around the hilt of a sword. Or," he chuckled, "the perfect O your lips made the time you fell from my window."

She laughed quietly.

Robin cupped her cheek. "You are my England, Marian. I will not leave you again. Not for Eleanor, though she wanted me to look for the King. Certainly not for Richard, or even the Pope."

"Fine words," whispered Marian.

"True words," Robin promised her.

"I cannot wait much longer for Richard to return," Marian said wistfully. "If this is a day for dreaming, let us plan for that day." She wiped her tears resolutely.

"The first thing I am going to do is drag you off to Locksley and ravish you in your rightful home," Robin promised grandly.

Marian laughed out loud at that, the comment caught her so off guard. "Very well, I am agreeable to that plan. Might I also make a suggestion?"

"Of course."

"Might we also get married properly? So we might feast with all of Nottingham?" Marian proposed.

"You mean feed everyone? Is that not what we do already?"

"You know what I mean," she smiled at him.

"I do. Yes. We shall have another wedding. And then a honeymoon…"

"London," she offered. "The Aquitaine, Bavaria?"

"Oh," said Robin. "I was thinking more along the lines of never leaving our bed."

"Robin!" she swatted him lightly on the arm.

He pinched her bum. "I jest. I will take you anywhere you wish."

"And if this is a day for dreams, I think six children would be a good number. Three girls and three boys."

Robin gazed into her eyes, his gaze so piercing. "I have not forgotten what you have said about children."

She closed her eyes and buried her face in his neck.

He went on softly, "I cannot pretend that children right  _ now _ would be a good idea. I do not know how much use a pregnant woman would be in camp, and unfortunately, if someone cannot be of use, they cannot live in the forest. But that is not to say that someday I would not like children. Because I would… like them."

Marian was trembling again, and he rubbed her back in soothing circles, his calloused fingertips searched out her favorite places.

"However, Marian. If you, if  _ we _ cannot have children, it makes no difference to my happiness with you. As long as you are by my side, I could bear anything."

"All my life," she mumbled, "I have lived under my Father's expectations; be silent, be meek, be frugal, and further, get married, have children. And even though I have not met those expectations (except for marriage, and being frugal), I cannot quite shake them. Especially now that he has passed. I feel as though without children, our marriage would be… unfinished. That even in heaven, Father would feel my anguish."

"That is rubbish," he told her gently. "I did not marry you to get you with child. I married you because I wanted to be happy. Happiness does not always come down to how many children you have. It hurts me more to see you so unhappy about any children we might not have. But Marian," he tucked his finger under her chin and raised her face to look into her blue eyes, "there are many children in this world, some without parents. And here we are, parents without children. We can take one in, foundlings, or whatever. We make our own rules. And your Father respected you, and he liked me, or he did before I was outlawed. He would not care, so long as you were alive and well."

Marian pondered his words in her heart. Then she said, "It is arbitrary to discuss now," said Marian. "The King has not returned home."

"Damn, or rather,  _ bless _ the King, but this is a day for dreams," Robin reminded her.

She smiled. "Very well, we will take every foundling child in Nottinghamshire."

"Every blessed one," Robin agreed.

* * *

It was quite late when Much finally screwed up enough courage to knock on Robin's chamber door. He knocked quite loudly, hoping to wake them from sleep, or rouse them from whatever euphemism they were using today. Much could hear the bed clothes rustling and Marian murmuring to Robin something Much could not catch (not that he was trying to listen or anything).

Of course they no longer  _ needed _ euphemisms, since they were now married, but  _ still _ , if they were going to spend the whole day abed-

Suddenly the door was open.

"Yes, Much?" asked Robin with a smile, leaning upon the door jamb.

"Oh, I was, I mean, the gang and I were wondering, if perhaps you were coming down for dinner."

"No, Much. Marian and I were taking a day off from all of our responsibilities."

"We have been here a month, master, we have hardly had any responsibilities!" Much smiled encouragingly.

Robin frowned.

Much hurried to recover, "I mean, not that we have been idle, the poor still need our help and all, and well…"

"Much," said Robin slowly, "Marian and I will not be coming down to dinner."

"I – I shall bring a plate of food up!" Much suggested hopefully.

"Thank you, my friend, but no. We are quite well stocked," Robin said, stepping back into the chamber and closing the door in Much's face.

_ Well, how do you like that _ ? Much turned on his heel and walked away, trying not to show his hurt. He knew, they all did, that Robin's handfasting to Marian would mean changes in the gang. But if truth were told, Robin had changed since coming home. Robin used to confide in Much, exclusively. And Much had prided in that. He had put faith in it – that Robin would always trust Much and care for him. Much was not a jealous man, or a small man (whatever anyone said), but this life was not the one he would have chosen for himself, or for Robin. He certainly missed conversations with his closest friend, his master. Even though he liked Marian, Much could not help but feel he was suddenly on the outside looking in.

Much swallowed his bitterness and went to join the gang, laughing off the bawdy jokes at Robin's expense.

* * *

While Robin had answered the door, Marian had slinked out of bed and pulled on a robe that had belonged to Sir Richard's daughter (before she had married). She sat at the dressing table and began combing her hair. When Robin had dismissed Much, he collapsed on the bed and watched the comb go through his wife's inky black hair, first fifty times, then a hundred.

"Your Father would have tanned my hide had he known how many times I snuck to your window to watch you comb your hair and to steal your affections. Lucky for us, he and my Father decided we would make a good match."

"You were my choice before you were my father's," she reminded him. She met his eyes in the mirror.

"Well, like I told your father, I do not always think I deserve your high admiration."

"When did you say that?" Marian turned around to face him.

Robin shrugged off the question, "It does not matter, does it? He gave us his blessing."

"I suppose he did. And you do deserve my feelings Robin, whatever your thoughts on the matter." She stood up and crawled back into bed, stretching out next to him.

"Oh? Go on," he teased. "Sing my praises."

"Any particular tune?" Marian said, raising an eyebrow.

"Whatever strikes your fancy," Robin said, eyes a-twinkle.

Marian thought for a moment, then cleared her voice and began to sing to the tune of a popular tavern ditty that he had once taught her,

" _ Great Robin of Locksley!  
_ _ Friend of the Sheriff,  
_ _ Kind and loyal and true.  
_ _ Law abiding and honorable, oh great Earl of Huntingdon  
_ _ Loyal servant of the true king, John.  
_ _ True enemy of the outlaws,  
_ __ He always does right, never wrong…."

She paused.

"Why did you stop?"

"I ran out of good qualities," she teased.

"I know what you can continue with," Robin said smiling.

"What?" she gave him a shove.

"When did you first know… you know." He rested his chin on his fist, a study in attention.

She smiled. "That I was in love with you? Well, I always liked you. You were the only boy who ever  _ listened _ to me! How could I resist that? My ideas, my hopes and dreams… you listened to them, all my words, and you reciprocated. You told me yours," she pinched the apple of his cheek. "But we were so young then. When you left… I was heartbroken. I mourned you as dead, knowing as I did that so many men perished in crusades. And I had no way of knowing if you were alive, if you were coming home.

"And then you did come home, and I was so angry with you. So angry." She frowned, thinking of her rage.

"I noticed when you drew a bow against me."

"I had mourned you for dead. And I was struggling with the Sheriff , Gisbourne, the Nightwatchman, and everything else. There was too much juggling going on, and I am no court's fool. I knew you would be a handful, more than I could predict."

"I am going to take that as a compliment," he preened.

"Shut your face. I was not finished."

"Sorry."

She glared, silencing him. "But then you were so impossibly valiant, and it was as if the boy I loved had turned into a man; his childhood dreamings had turned into adult convictions, and I knew I was in trouble. You will never hear me say that your leaving for battle was a good thing; in truth I wonder if you had stayed, would any of this had happened? And yet, our time apart has allowed us both to grow up. I just did not know you had done so at first."

"That is quite the speech, Marian."

"Well, I have had plenty of time to think on our… relationship. When I was in the castle. I could not discuss it with anyone; I could not exactly go sound out my feelings to Gisbourne. But I had many thoughts in my head.

"When did you first know?" she turned his question on him.

"I am afraid that early in our courtship, my thoughts were not always… chivalrous."

Marian laughed. His cheek was part of his charm.

He went on. "You were my friend, you were familiar. When I was in France, meeting all those French women, I always thought of you, young as we both were. They would scheme to get their little ways, but you were always honest about what you wanted with your life. Perhaps why I hate Gisbourne so much is that being with him turned you into one of those wily French women that I distrusted so much. The Marian _ I _ knew and loved was better than me in all my lessons, she held me to a higher standard. She made me want to be a better page, squire, knight, man. Yes, I went to war as a way of avoiding the grief of my lord Father's death, but I thought if I went, I would make myself worthy of the responsibility of being your husband, of being Lord of Locksley, Earl of Huntingdon.

"You called me valiant, but I have known few people braver than you, Marian. When you walked into that Church to marry Gisbourne, I hated you, but I loved you too. You knew you had to do it, to protect your Father. Even when you knew it would result in your own death. And I wondered if I would ever be that brave, or good enough to you to warrant the same sacrifice." He added, "Not that you are  _ ever _ to sacrifice your life for mine."

"I feel the same," she said, her eyes shining.

He smiled and cupped her cheek. "You know I am no poet, and I do not have clever little phrases to use to charm women. They are the same tired old phrases (drivel, if you prefer), that I used in our first courtship. Perhaps you take comfort in that? You should." Robin winked at her.

"How many?"

"Beg pardon?" his voice squeaked.

Her eyes glimmered with humor. "When you were in the Holy Land, you must have had suitors."

"Only a bastard keeps count, Marian, but I can assure you, the number is not so very high. Is it warm in here? Shall I open the window?"

She laughed. "I am not interrogating you."

"No, but I rather wonder if this is not a confession? Shall we get Tuck in?"

She pursed her lips.

"Marian," he said plaintively.

"Are you afraid to tell me?"

"Yes," he whispered his admission.

"You can try and put me off, Robin, but I… would prefer if you were honest with me. You know how many suitors I have had."

That was true. He sighed. "War… it makes animals of us all. Richard so wanted it to be a holy war, he did not allow any… washerwomen to follow us. Many men took to raping any woman above the age of six and below the age of sixty."

Marian's eyes widened in horror.

"I did not. There is no way in heaven or in hell that I would take my pleasure from someone else's pain. If you must know, I… paid for my pleasure. Not as often as some, perhaps. I wanted to live up to Richard's ideals."

"Did Richard visit… ladies?" Marian chose her word with care.

"N-not exactly. Richard… how shall I put this? He is not interested in… ladies."

"What?" she asked blankly.

"Er, well, Richard had… favorites. And while it was considered an honor to share his… tent, it was never a requirement."

Marian blushed, then joked, "We really ought to get these French men off the English throne."

"Marian!" Robin stuttered.

She laughed. "And were you ever asked to share the King's… tent?"

It was Robin's turn to blush.

"Come, now, Robin. You are in too deep to back out now, and the King has known you since you were a squire."

"I, yes. He did ask me. But I gracefully declined."

"He must have been terrible disappointed, you know. You are an excellent lover."

"I am?"

"I should think so. Of course, you are the only lover I have entertained," she winked at him. "So I would not know what to compare you to. You are not shafting me, are you?" she asked, the picture of innocence.

Robin rolled on top of her. "Have I not proven that I can hit the target when I need to?" He took her in, warm and real in his arms, hair spread out, haloing her head.

"Is this a competition? For a silver arrow?" she smiled, mussing his soft-as-silk hair.

"I am keen if you are." he winked at her.

"Let the games begin," Marian whispered in his ear.


	9. The Plot Thickens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Well, enough said, I, at least, discreet,  
as in office, patched and pensive,  
I proclaim the redundancy of the inaugural:  
I've arrived here with all my baggage,  
bad luck and worse jobs,  
misery always waiting with open arms,  
the mobilization of people piled up on top of each other,  
and the manifold geography of hunger".~From the poem "The Men" by Pablo Neruda

Marian was out in the stables, grooming the horses that she was unable to ride without her disguise. But combing their coats and seeing to their food gave her some industry, and kept her warm. She appreciated that, at least.

"Took me awhile to track you down, Nightwatchman," she heard from the doorway.

Marian turned her head to meet Allan's blue eyes.

"Who is looking for me this time?" she asked.

"Well, Giz for one. He is still holding out hope you are in some forgotten convent in Wales or something."

Marian snorted. " _ That _ would require a vow of chastity and obedience. And silence. None of which I am prepared to give. What news do you bring?"

"What makes you think I brought news?"

Marian gave him a disbelieving look. "I highly doubt Guy would send you out looking for me here if he believes me to be in Wales."

Allan chuckled. "You are too clever for your own good, Marian-bird."

"Well, sing, Allan-bird."

"It seems that Prince John was raising money to pay off the Duke Leopold-"

"That is unexpectedly good news," Marian commented.

"You misunderstand – pay him to keep Richard longer so John could get some more allies. But it seems that Johnny boy received a letter from King Philip in France that the Devil is loose."

"That is – wonderful news! 'The Devil' can only be the King!"

"Well, obviously," said Allan.

Marian laughed and hugged Allan, kissing his cheek. "There, your reward for such happy tidings."

"And what happy tidings are these?" Robin asked dangerously, entering the stable.

"Robin – Allan is here to tell us that the King has escaped his imprisonment," Marian said in a hard voice, broking no argument from her lover.

"And how are we to believe that?" demanded Robin.

"Believe what you want," said Allan. "I am leaving."

Robin drew his blade, anger getting the better of him. "NO YOU ARE NOT. DO YOU THINK I WOULD LET YOU LEAVE, LET YOU TELL GISBOURNE AND THE SHERIFF WHERE WE ARE? WHERE  _ MARIAN _ IS?"

Allan laughed. "And why would I do that? I have not told them that you go over the walls by the kennels while the guards take them to search the castle. Do you know I have hidden your ropes in my room? And do you know the dogs grew familiar with your smell?"

Robin looked taken aback.

"Who do you think told Marian and Djaq that your monk was in the dungeons? Did you really think that was common knowledge, Robin? That stunt could have gotten everyone in the castle excommunicated," Allan continued.

"It is true, Robin. Allan has been spying for us. Because he is there, I feel less guilty about being here," Marian confessed.

"Now if you will excuse me," he sketched a little bow, "I have to be back before I am missed," Allan said, quitting the barn.

Robin's eyes widened. He sheathed his sword and he ran out into the courtyard, "Thank you, Allan. I-"

"Shut it, Robin. I don't do it for you," Allan informed him coldly.

"Then who do you do it for?" Robin insisted sharply.

Allan shrugged. "You are not the only one looking for a little redemption."

With that, he was gone.

Marian came out and joined hands with her husband. "I would have told you," she offered quietly.

"No, you would not have," he sighed.

"No," she agreed.

"I am still angry at him," Robin admitted.

"He is still angry with himself," said Marian. "He wants to help us. He has taken my place in the castle. He came to me because I think because we both know what it is to live in the castle, to keep from the Sheriff and Gisbourne the thoughts in our heads. They cannot know where his loyalties lie. He is useful there.  _ Let _ him be of use."

"What news did he bring?"

"Prince John has been raising money to keep King Richard in Austria, to consolidate his power more firmly before Richard secured his release. But the King has escaped into the night."

"Lucky bastard. How did he do that?" Robin wondered.

"Allan does not know; I think it a great mystery. King Philip sent Prince John a message from Paris; 'The Devil is Loose'."

"Well, at least Allan brought us good news," admitted Robin.

"He also mentioned that Gisbourne is still searching for me."

"Damn the man," Robin squeezed her fingers tightly. "Perhaps we  _ should _ have invited him to the handfasting? Maybe if he knew you were married to another, he would let you go?"

"I doubt it, if the man in question were you," she said and kissed his cheek.

* * *

Will often felt stifled in the manor and took to the woods near Sir Richard's home. He would leave early in the morning, return late at night, brushing off questions about where he had been (nowhere) and what he had been doing (nothing), sometimes bringing a bit of game for the table.

Djaq did not know  _ exactly _ where he was going or what he was doing, except  _ away _ and  _ avoiding her _ .

She decided to follow him one day, but was not very adept at it. Her feet were too loud, unused to the snow which crunched and squeaked beneath her boots.

All told, it did not take him long to discover her.

Still, he took it in stride and slowed his pace enough for her to catch up (shorter legs working harder to force her way through snow that lay up to her knees).

He led her to a fallen log, mostly cleared of snow.

Will was so quiet, and Djaq hardly knew where to begin.

"Did I wait too long?" she whispered.

"No," he said softly. "Have you… thought long enough?"

Djaq sighed, her breath came out like a cloud. "I hardly know what to think," she said. "I admire you. Perhaps not in quiet the way you admire me, but I think that, right now, it might be enough. You scare me, Will Scarlet. You are so quiet, and then your hatred of the Sheriff catches everyone off guard and you are filled with rage."

He hung his head. "I am sorry about that. My father-"

"I know." She interrupted him, settling a hand on his shoulder. "I  _ know _ . We are not  _ that _ different. I am a warrior, but with you, I am filled with peace. When you first saw me, thinking me a boy and a heathen, and Allah knew what else. You were so calm, even when you wrestled with your fear.

"So… thank you for the loving spoon," she hesitated for a moment, afraid to continue.

"But?" he asked.

"But… I am not yet ready for emotions. Feelings. Perhaps when whatever you English call normal is restored to this land, when the Crusade is over, perhaps then, I will be prepared to return your affections. Know that in my entire life, you are the only man who has ever had hope of winning them. But now, I fear there is too much of a fight in me. I am not Marian, who can love in one breath and fight in the next.

"You make me feel vulnerable, Will. It is a new feeling. It takes some getting used to," she concluded.

"I am not asking you to be the Lady Marian," Will told her. "I like you. That is, I like Marian, but I would never carve her a spoon. I would never ask you to be anything but yourself. Just you. Do not even change your religion for me – I do not care a whit that you call God by the name of Allah."

She bumped her shoulder into his arm, smiling widely. "I know. Know that when this is over, I am prepared to love you, Will Scarlet."

Will did not say anything, but very slowly twined his arm around her shoulder. They remained on the log, contemplating the strange twists and turns that had brought them together.

* * *

The journey west to England under the guise of pilgrims was more trying than either Carter/Blondel or King Richard could have predicted. Carter rationed what little money they had; often they worked at an inn for a bed and some broth. Other times, they stayed at monasteries, earning their keep there, too.

It was hard to break the habit of calling Richard by his royal titles. Both had difficulty managing and they corrected each other constantly. But it was strange for both to pretend to be on equal terms.

Movement through Europe was slow, if they wanted to keep their cover, and often they visited little shrines off the beaten track to earn the trust of villagers who might offer them a roof for the night.

Usually the relics they visited were not really the bones of martyrs, but the communities were proud of them. They could hardly  _ ignore _ them. Blondel and the King were not credible liars.

They had not left Austria yet – they were on the Western most border in Innsbruck, keeping their heads down over some ale and sausage, when they spotted a man… wearing the leopards of the Plantagenets.

"Go above stairs, your Majesty," Carter whispered to the King.

" _ Richard _ ," he admonished, but slipped away regardless.

Carter sidled up behind the messenger, pulled a dagger, and rested the point at the small of his back. "Act naturally. Up the ladder. Or I will kill you in a trice. Without even  _ blinking. _ "

Carter waited until the man nodded, then led him above stairs to the loft. It was still early in the evening- no one had yet retired. Richard waited up there, seated on a rude little bunk as if he were holding court. The messenger fell to his knees, recognizing his King. Carter stayed near the trap door, on his guard.

"What fool walks in to an Austrian inn wearing Our colors?" Richard demanded.

"Your Majesty," began the man. "I am Sir Ralf du Osmont. I am come from your mother, to see if I could seek you out and help you."

"The first thing you can do to help is get rid of that bright red tunic!" Richard ordered.

"Of- of course!" Sir Ralf stammered and instantly pulled it off, balled it up and stashed it in his bag. He at least wore a crude undershirt.

Carter laughed.

"By God, you are new at espionage. Destroy that at your first opportunity. Continue," Richard said.

"Oh! Yes, your Majesty. Now that I have found you, Robin of Locksley's wife mentioned that we have a friend in Bavaria."

"Oh?" asked the King. "Robin has a wife? Who would marry an outlaw?"

"Most likely the Lady Marian Fitzwalter of Knighton. She has turned outlaw herself," Carter commented dryly.

The King shrugged. The name sounded familiar, but he did not concern himself with his men's sweethearts at home. "Who is this friend?"

"Count Friedrich Berthold Otto von Wittelsbach. The dowager Queen thought he lived near a town called Aichach," Sir Ralf supplied.

"What say you, Blondel? To Aichach?" asked Richard.

"It makes no difference to me. If we can receive a bit of help, it is most welcome," Carter said.

"Very well, to Aichach."

"I- I shall come with!" Sir Ralf offered.

Richard laughed. "Absolutely not. You can best serve me another way. Take a message to Our mother. Tell her We should be along in the spring, and then We must go to England to put down this near-rebellion Blondel tells us about. Tell her We want two hundred archers and three hundred calvary. Now, make haste!"

Sir Ralf turned on his heel and nearly ran out of the loft, down through the trap door and out into the early evening.

"Cruel of you," Carter said mildly.

"Perhaps, but can you imagine him tagging along? Besides, I really do want my mother to raise a small legion," he stood.

"To Aichach?" asked Carter.

"In the morning. We have already paid for the room."

They crossed the border the next day, and after that, they wasted no time in getting to Aichach, making the journey in less than three days, despite the constant snowfall that threatened to cover them until Spring.

They arrived at Burg Wittelsbach around twilight, hungry and half-frozen.

Naturally, the castle guards would only direct them to a nearby monastery, saying there was no room for religious pilgrims, despite the storm.

"Go on, good Sirs, 'tis still near Christmas- is there really no room at the inn?" pleaded Carter.

"Sorry, sirs. You must go. This is no place for holy men like you," a young guard told them.

Carter looked like he was going to try again, when King Richard touched his shoulder.

"Peace, Blondel. Guards, I wish to speak to your Count. Not only do we seek refuge from the storm, we have business with him, by order of Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine," Richard commanded in his best Kingly voice.

"Nay," said the older guard. "We have already had an unexpected messenger from her. Do you really expect us to believe she has sent two pilgrims to us?"

"And what do you know of politics, Knight? Just from what you have gleaned from listening at keyholes? Go and fetch your Count, quick, before this storm breaks."

Carter was shivering in his thin cloak and wet boots by the time the Count was fetched to them.

"Who are you to demand entry into my castle?" he asked mildly.

"You play a dangerous game," Carter warned.

"Oh really? I am a gambler, pilgrim. Which game am I playing now?" The Count shot back.

"Enough," Richard commanded. "Pay attention, Count Friedrich Berthold Otto von Wittelsbach. I am come from Austria, and I seek refuge, if it is yours to give. Perhaps my mother asked for your aid, on behalf of our mutual friend, Robin Hood?"

"Mmm, yes, I am familiar with Robin Hood. But more familiar with his charming Lady Marian." He offered them a lopsided grin.

Carter growled his disapproval.

"It is a joke!" Count Friedrich laughed. "Guards, open the gates. Fetch my steward and tell him to show these men to the best rooms available, and I shall meet them in my hall after speaking to the kitchens about preparing some hot food for them."

Slippery as he was, the Count's household soon accomplished just that. Carter/Blondel and the displaced English King found themselves warm and dry in Count Friedrich's hall, supping on German delicacies and drinking some truly exceptional beer.

"How may I help you, King Richard, Coeur de Lion?" offered Count Friedrich.

" _ Finally, some respect from this man", _ Carter could not help but think.

Richard put his goblet down and began, "I take it you have been to England, so you know how things stand there? We have near revolt, and these men say they wish to claim the crown for Our brother, John Lackland. John is not without claim – Our own father wanted John on the throne before me. Though We had more military support, and the support of a living dowager queen, Our mother, this support has waned since We were in the Holy Land. It seems England feels neglected in Our absence."

"But you do have supporters, Sire," Count Friedrich observed.

"Yes. Robin of Locksley fights in Our name. His enemies, Our enemies, call him outlaw, though in truth, there is no one in England more in Our laws than him," the King agreed.

"Yet Vaisey in Nottingham will stop at nothing to kill Robin Hood," Carter attested.

"I see the Sheriff tried to use you, too?" Count Friedrich asked, not unkindly.

"Indeed; I was hired to kill him."

"Ah," said the Count. "I was invited to lose my money at his gaming tables. No doubt to pay for the Sheriff's treason."

"Is that so?" asked the King.

"It is the truth, your highness," the Count declared.

"Perhaps you have a greater stake in this than We previously thought. May I call upon your support to help Us conquer this foe?" Richard asked.

"You shall a hundred men and provisions for them. Just name the day," the Count said darkly.


	10. Certitude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "It takes a great deal of courage to stand up to your enemies, but even more so to stand up to your friends." JK Rowling (well, Dumbledore).

"Robin, lad, may I speak to you? And you, Much," Sir Richard interrupted the gang, who were busy in his hall planning the next few drops. It was nearing spring, close enough that they could plan their return to the camp.

Robin shot a glance at Much, who shrugged just as confused as Robin. Without a word, the men stood and followed Sir Richard out of the hall, out of the house and into the barn.

"Sit," he commanded, indicating three milking stools.

"Yes, Sir?" Robin asked, sitting heavily. Much did the same.

"Let us have it," Sir Richard settled down gracefully, as if the milking stool was a throne that he was comfortable on.

"Have what?" Much wondered, shifting uncomfortably.

"I think you both know," said Sir Richard. "Whatever has come between you. Crusading, perhaps? Or, these forest adventures? Or mayhap, Lady Marian?"

"I am not doing this," Much said resolutely.

Robin's eyebrows danced in confusion. "Doing what, Much?"

"Talking."

Sir Richard leaned back against the rough stable wall. He knew something was coming between these two friends. He had known them since they were boys, inseparable. Yet since their coming to the manor, perhaps longer, they had been dancing around… something.

Robin was smiling to himself. "That makes a change, normally it is a challenge for you to remain quiet."

"Oh, I know what you think about me. I talk too much, I eat too much, I complain too much. Maybe it has something to do with my name! Much! But it is so much easier for you. You are a little Robin Red Breast, bringing the spring and the sunshine, while I pick up the pieces! I worry about the fire and the food and everything else, because you do not! You… you take me for granted, Robin."

Robin shook his head, but he could not meet his oldest friend's eyes.

"You get the glory, you get… your Marian, and-"

Robin sniggered at that.

"Do  _ not  _ laugh at me!" Much jumped up and overturned his chair, pacing the barn, full of restless energy that Robin normally possessed.

Sir Richard bit his lip.

Much was just talking now. But Sir Richard knew that this is how men like Much worked out their problems. That Much had just needed Robin to listen to him. And Robin had not made time for Much in these past few years. Sir Richard doubted if either man knew he was still there, silently observing as they fell apart. And hopefully, as they put themselves back together again. This had to happen, painful though it would be.

"It is not Marian. I am not… She is not the problem," Much continued. "I have known since we were all children that you would be together. And Marian has always been kind to me. It is not her. It is… in the Holy Land, I had your back, you had mine. I am… I am no longer certain that you have my back. Everything we did in the Holy Land – we were there _ together _ . When you were… wounded, it was  _ me  _ who nursed you back to health. And now, you do not even listen to me! And you never talk. You just do not talk."

Tears threatened in Much's voice, but Sir Richard just watched Robin's reaction. He could see the shame in his face. Shame at how he had mistreated the man who meant as much as Marian to him. A man who shared his past, and a man who would share in his future. Sir Richard watched as the reality of it slapped Robin's face.

It was good for Robin to hear this.

And it was better for Much to say this.

Though it hurt them both.

"You made me a free man," Much persisted. "We are meant to be equals! But we are  _ not _ . You still treat me as a servant, but never once as a friend."

"That… that is not true," Robin said softly, clearly stung by Much's tirade.

Sir Richard found it interesting that Robin did not argue with anything else, but with Much's declaration that there was no friendship, no equality between them.

Silence fell, as heavy as the truth.

"Much, I…. You are right. I have betrayed your friendship. But I think you know why," Robin spoke lowly, his voice quiet and full of shame.

Much shook his head slightly, but Robin was not looking at him. Whatever he was focusing on, it was not in that barn with them. Much fell still.

Robin stood up and began pacing now. "I know you need to talk about the Holy Land, and I know you need to talk about the nightmares, but I cannot. I just… I cannot. I am not as strong as you. I cannot think of them, because the moment they come back… I am paralyzed. I cannot plan, I cannot lead, I cannot shoot, I cannot even touch my bow. I could not touch you, or anyone in the gang, or even Marian, for Christ's sake. The horrors we saw in the Holy Land – the men, the women and children…. Every time I raise my bow, I see them. I can hear them. That is… why we do not kill. Because I have enough blood on my hands.  _ You  _ have enough blood on your hands, and that is  _ my  _ fault. My gift with bow is God – given, but it is also a curse. I cannot think of what my hands can do. And because of that, I could not be there for you. And I am sorry."

"Why did you not say?"

Robin let out a breath. "Pride?" His eyes were red-rimmed with tears. So were Much's.

(So were Sir Richard's.)

"Is that not one of the seven deadly sins?" Much hiccupped.

Robin gave his friend a watery smile and the two embraced. Neither noticed that Sir Richard had withdrawn. Some moments were too intimate to share, even with men who had also been to war. These two were clearly brothers, and Sir Richard had always been more of a father.

"Thank you for your honesty," Robin did indeed sound grateful. "I am sorry I have not been a better friend to you. I cannot promise that I will be able to talk about what you need to talk about. But please, if you are angry with me, do not keep it bottled up so long."

"I did not want to add more to the weight of the world you already carry on your shoulders," Much told his friend.

"That is the stupidest thing you have ever said to me," said Robin with a small wink. "Have I not told you that I  _ like _ worrying about you?"

"Well, it is mainly the Holy Land… thing."

Robin sighed. "I know. It troubles Marian, too. Perhaps the two of you can have a good long chat about me?"

"I do not think that will help," said Much earnestly.

Robin sighed and settled on his stool again. Much turned his the right way up and sat down again.

"Where is Sir Richard?" Much asked, realizing suddenly the older man had left.

"Probably left us to dry off," Robin commented wryly.

"What I want to know is, how did he know something was wrong?"

Robin shrugged. "We have hardly been in the same room alone together since we stayed here. We used to be inseparable."

"Apart from when you would sneak off to visit the Lady Marian."

Robin burst into a genuine laugh. "Some things never change," he observed.

"At least now you are married," Much said. "I do not have to worry about you doing harm to her honor."

"Indeed," Robin's eyes twinkled mischievously. "How about you, Much? Anyone I should be playing chaperone for?"

"Well, Eve could not stay in Nottingham after she helped us…" Much pointed out. "So… not really."

"But you know where she is?"

"She told she has family in London. And when this is all over, I am going to find her and make an honest woman of her."

Robin smiled. "I wish you only the best. And naturally, you shall have your Bonchurch."

"If you had taken it back, I would have appealed to the King."

"You would have been well within your rights," Robin said seriously. "And he likes you, Much. He would give it to you."

"Oh, I wish this were over now," Much said, kicking up his heels to rest on Sir Richard's vacated stool and leaned against the coarse barn wall.

"As do I, Much.

"Have you thought of how you might help the gang?" Much asked.

"You are ever so practical. Besides you getting Bonchurch, and besides pardons for everyone… I do not know. I will not make decisions for anyone. They are free to do whatever they wish, with my full support. And of course, I will help anyway I can."

"What about you? What will you do?"

Robin shrugged. "I try not to think beyond the next altercation with Gisbourne or Vaisey. But… help repair the Shire. Help Marian rebuild her manor. Sow and reap, beat my sword into a plowshare, that sort of thing."

"Raise a brood of children," Much joked, but the laughter left his face when he saw Robin's grow serious. "Robin, what is it?"

"Marian is not confident we can have children. It seems Guy's wound to her stomach… may have affected that. We have been married a ten-month and yet there has been no sign."

"Well, that could mean anything," Much assured him.

"I am not so sure. I know very little of… women's… things."

"Perhaps, once things are safe again, God will send you children."

"Perhaps," Robin agreed with a smile. "At any rate, we have a plan to take in every foundling in the Shire.

"Sounds like a good one," Much concurred.

They sat in silence, remembering the past and thinking of the future. Their brotherhood had taken a beating in the past few years, and it would be a long road to recovery, but neither would be willing to cut the other out of their life.

* * *

The world was melting – or so it sounded like, as all the snow dripped off roofs and trees and fences and anything else remotely elevated. It melted into streams that flowed and eddied and emptied into the River Trent, flowing off to the distant sea. The world was melting, and Robin felt himself waking up from a winter's worth of dreaming.

He was snapped back into reality with a visit from Allan-A-Dale, who met them at a drop point one day.

"I haven't got long," Allan said tensely, quickly, without even greeting the gang. "Did you hear what is happening in Locksley?"

"No. What?" Robin asked, all the more anxious for seeing Allan.

"Gisbourne has turned out all of your villagers – they are quartering some mercenaries of the Sheriff's. They are keeping the food in the Church. Thought you might like to know."

As a unit, all of them turned to Robin and Much. They had grown up in Locksley.

"Robin, what do you need us to do?" Much asked. Though he never hoped to be Lord of Locksley, he still felt strong stirrings of loyalty for the place where he had spent his childhood.

"Well do not tell me your plan," Allan said, tightening the reins on his horse. "Anyway, my girl Jocosa's waiting on me."

"Many thanks, Allan," Robin said absently. When he was out of earshot, he said to the gang, "I think we should empty the church of the food, and soon the mercenaries will be starved out. We will have to take care that any food that is replaced is also taken.

"What of the villagers?" Little John asked.

"We can hide them in the forest," suggested Djaq, "Feed them the food we have stolen."

"And I think it is time we move back to the forest, anyway," the Nightwatchman put in.

"Good," Robin agreed. "Will, Djaq – you go and find any villagers that have no family to take them in. Much, I need you to keep watch on the church – see if you can figure out the rotation of the guards. You know what to do. The Nightwatchman, Little John, and I will go get our gear at Sir Richard's and thank him for his hospitality, before opening the camp. Meet there at dusk."

Everyone nodded and split up.

* * *

"You are very welcome, Robin. Please do not hesitate to ask for help again," Sir Richard said, shaking hands with Robin, Little John and the Nightwatchman.

"Should it come down to it, can we depend on you in a battle?"

"Of course," said the old man. "Anything for Richard, you know that."

"I will be in touch," Robin told him, and the three departed.

It was late in the afternoon when they reached the camp. Little John opened it with a creak and the three immediately set to work, cleaning and organizing. It had sprung a few leaks where the melting snow had dammed up, but mostly, it was in good order, if a bit musty. And, it was free of vermin.

"How did it hold up?" asked Will when he returned with Djaq.

"Well enough," said Marian, who was beating blankets with Little John.

"A few leaks," Little John added.

"Easily mended for a man with your skills," Robin said. He had returned from cutting wood, staggering under the weight of too much to carry.

He let the wood drop with a clatter, and Djaq set to helping him stack neatly and told them where the villagers were housed as Will surveyed his roof, muttering to himself to what needed to be done.

Not long after, Much returned. He had purchased some bread in Locksley and as he passed it out, he reported, "The guard rotates every six hours, it is not a complicated rotation. And from the looks of things, the men not on duty have been into the goodwives' ale."

"Right," said Robin. "Locksley is empty of villagers, and if all the able-bodied men are drunk, we take care of this tonight." He stuffed the rest of the bread in his mouth. A light dinner, and lighter ones to come. But they had work to do.

As darkness fell, Marian once again became the Nightwatchman and the gang led their horses through the forest.

The Nightwatchman could not help feeling like they were a bit rusty at stealing things from under the noses of the Sheriff's guards. But she hoped that in return, the guards had grown soft without the constant threat of the gang. The winter had been much too cold to do anything other than dropping food and money for the poor. Even the Sheriff had been content to plot next to his fire and wait for spring.

As Much had reported, the men in Locksley were drunk. Some were fighting amongst themselves. Others were singing and roasting things over fires. Still more were passed out. At any rate, anyone not on duty was not going to pay attention to six shadows that knew Locksley village better than them.

The shadows watched as the guards changed – only four of them were left to keep watch over the church. The four getting off set out instantly to their cups, (having listened to the merriment for six hours and were quite eager to join in).

Little John slid out with his own flask of ale to offer it to the guards.

"Who goes there?" asked the leader of the four as they all raised their swords.

"Just me," said Little John, without giving his name. "I just want to offer you something to drink, no hard feelings for you men borrowing my house."

"Good of you," said the leader, lowering his weapon cautiously.

Little John nodded, "It is good of you. New recruits to help the Sheriff clean out these damned woods of ours. Chock full of outlaws, you know." He offered the flask again.

The four men took their turns drinking, then took their turns passing out. Djaq had made a special brew just for them.

"Are you sure that will last six hours?" Robin asked her.

"It should last eight, and they will have a hangover, as if from too much ale," Djaq answered.

So the outlaws took the food that was meant to feed their enemies and fled to the damned woods to feed the people the soldiers had displaced.


	11. Leaning into the Afternoons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I send out red signals across your absent eyes  
that move like the sea near a light house  
"You keep only darkness, my distant female,  
from your regard sometimes the coast of dread emerges…."   
~Pablo Neruda, from "Leaning into the Afternoons"

"GISBOURNE!" was the echoing cry through the castle, as the Sheriff demanded his lieutenant. " _ GISBOURNE! _ "

Sir Guy of Gisbourne dismissed the serving maid from his chambers, and stepped into the corridor outside, hastily pulling on his boots over his trousers.

"You  _ imbecile _ !" the Sheriff bellowed as he turned the corner, seeing Gisbourne. "You artless  _ simpleton _ !"

Guy was lacing his boots as fast as he could, bent double. The Sheriff rushed over and knocked him over. Guy tumbled off balance and landed hard on his tail-bone, knocking his head against the stone wall.

He looked up at Vaisey, eyes furious, but said only, "What have I done now?"

"You! You have allowed Robin  _ Hood _ to rob the Church at Locksley! You assured me, up and down, Robin Hood would never rob a Church! Never break the eighth commandment in the house of God! Yet here I am, with hungry mercenaries and NO FOOD TO FEED THEM."

Guy's eyes were shut tight, his fingers delicately tracing the forming bump on the base of his skull. He had a headache coming on, and every word the Sheriff shouted reverberated ten times as loudly in his head.

"I _ told _ you it would be a bad idea!" Vaisey roared, even though they both knew that was a lie. The Sheriff had voiced no misgivings. "Hood knows Locksley like the back of his hand. Better than Sherwood Forest, you dolt! That was his home! And he is getting more foolhardy. He will be shooting to kill, next! Gisbourne! Stand up, you tottering dimwit! Where is Allan?"

"I do not know," Guy hissed. He stood up. The headache increased. Guy knew his laces were undone still, but bending down to lace them seemed like a terrible idea.

Vaisey's breath grew heavy, the air wheezed oddly though his gap tooth.

"And worst of all, my lumpish lieutenant, when I went to find a squire to send to Lincoln for more supplies, I find all the messengers are  _ gone! _ Scattered throughout England in search of your reluctant strumpet."

Gisbourne winced. Now he was in trouble (if he was not in trouble before).

"We have been over this. Stop pining over the honorable Lady Marian. She is NOT YOUR PRIORITY. She is such a prude, are you sure you even want her in your bed? You do well enough with the kitchen wenches."

At this, Gisbourne snapped. "That is different, and you know it, my Lord! I wish to provide for a wife and son, not simply to give way to my animal desires."

"Oh, and when you marry your Lady Marian, will you give up the whoring? Will she be that good in bed?"

Gisbourne growled.

"That is what I thought. Now find me Allan; he is going to Lincoln for me, and you will have to do his dirty work while you are gone, Gisbourne. Consequences for sending all of MY MESSENGERS looking to find YOU a WIFE!"

Gisbourne's ears were ringing.

The Sheriff stormed off in search of Allan. Gisbourne opened the door to his chamber and fell back on his mattress, kicking off the never tied boots easily.

The Sheriff was wrong. Once he and Marian were together, he would give up all his villainous, traitorous ways. He would, by God! She deserved everything he could afford. He would sell his soul to the devil himself to make Marian happy. As much as he missed her, he was almost glad she was not here to see the steps that the Sheriff had taken recently. Better to keep her away, to remove her from the situation, until things were settled. That is what the letters contained: loving greetings, and telling her, in the softest manner he could, that she should return when things were peaceful again. However… Guy of Gisbourne missed the softness of Lady Marian. The Sheriff was all hard edges, edges that cut and bruised. Yet even he had the softness of the birds in their gilded cages. Guy would have given anything to make a beautiful, safe bird cage for the Lady Marian, to keep her safe, keep her soft. To listen to her beautiful voice whenever he wished. Yes, Guy wished for that escape.

He hoped that wherever Marian was caged, she was comfortable, warm, and safe. And pining for him as much as he pined for her. For, when all of this was over….

He hated lying in a cold bed.

* * *

Marian was unsure why a year ago she had thought Robin's adventures were all over the top, reckless, and impetuous. The reality of the life of an outlaw was rather more mundane, even for one that fought injustice at every turn. They had the camp, so they did not worry about a roof over their heads (unless it leaked), but they did not always have enough food. Most of that went to the poor. When they had money left over from their drops, they bought vittles from the poorest of vendors, the ones who most suffered at the hands of the Sheriff. There were drops almost every day, and they kept watch on the main roads through the forest, but ultimately, there was not that much...  _ excitement _ .

Not that Marian was bored. She had lived through far worse boredoms (such as Sir Guy's "wooings" and learning embroidery). Marian had friends again, in a way that she had not had in years. Since Robin had left, really. All the other girls she had grown up with had been married off, all over the country. They were busy with young families and Marian rarely heard from them. Though she doubted very much if she had anything in common with those girls anymore (or, indeed, if she ever had).

But here in the forest, she had made the most unlikely friends for someone of her "station." Yet with these people, Robin's gang, she shared a closer bond than she ever could have with the maidens she had grown up with. Will Scarlet, so quiet and gentle, but with anger and vengeance brimming so near the surface. He taught her a bit about pride, creating something to earn that pride. As for Much, he had always been around, but he had been Robin's friend, not really hers. Certainly as boys, he and Robin had been attached at the hip. But until now, Marian had known very little about the miller's son who was sent to serve at Locksley Manor, for his father could not afford to keep the boy at home. Marian was glad that Robin's dear old father Earl Geoffrey had made a place in his home for the young Much. He was an uncomplicated man, and a practical counterpart to Robin's elaborate visions and plans. Much taught her how to make  _ Shish Kabob _ , which quickly became a favorite with her. And they shared their real, practical concerns about small comforts, like enough food to eat. Little John was something of a father figure to them all. He had lived in the forest for the longest - he knew nooks and trails that even Robin and Much did not know. He knew tricks for keeping warm in the winter and where the deer preferred to take their rest.

Out of all these unlikely friendships, the one that Marian found most incredible was her friendship with the Saracen woman, Djaq. Yet there it was, mutual respect and laughter flowed easily between them, and really, between Djaq and all of the men.

Marian once brought the subject up with Robin after a drop to Knighton village.

"How is it that you all have taken to Djaq so easily?" she asked around her Nightwatchman kerchief

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"She is a Saracen woman. Did you not... I do not know. Think her a heathen?"

Robin stilled. "No. When I was in the Holy Land, I learned her language, and I read the Koran. I do not think Muslims are heathens. And she is a better physician than we have anywhere in England. I do not make her stay. Djaq stays for her own reasons; she has her own battles to fight."

And that was all he would say on the subject.

Marian felt someone strange about bringing up the subject with Djaq, as if she was delving into something too personal. Yet when it came to other things, Marian felt less strange bringing them up. Like how her menses no longer came monthly. It was strange to Marian how she could bring up something so personal, but did not want to force Djaq to do the same.

So it was something of a surprise when Djaq came to her.

"How do you find the strength to fight, and to love your husband?"

They were alone in the camp. Marian was darning some of Much's socks, Djaq had been replenishing her kit.

The question came out of nowhere, and Marian stuttered, "Uh, sorry?"

Djaq sighed. "Will has told me he admires me. And I told him that I could not love and fight at the same time. He has not... pushed me, but. How do you do it?"

Marian finished her row and set the darning aside. She clasped her hands around her knee. "I... do not know. I suppose it is because they come from the same place in my heart. I love Robin, I love Nottingham, and I know he loves me and this county just as much. What is the old phrase? Hope springs eternal. We both hope, and we both nourish each other when the other is too tired to bear the weight of the Shire any longer. Does that make sense?"

Djaq shrugged. "As much as anything in this world can make sense, I suppose. But you did not strike me as being romantic in nature."

"Perhaps it is because you do not consider yourself to be a romantic dreamer," Marian pointed out. "Being one is not a weakness."

Was Djaq romantic? Marian had no idea.

Djaq rolled up a bandage, pondering. "I do not know what constitutes a romantic dreamer here. You are all dreaming of something - power, love, peace, money, your lands, bread... I guess at home, I was a dreamer. But I was raised to be one, to nurse men back to health, alongside my brother. But here, I am very practical. You need my skills. After this is over, will you still need me?"

"Shut your mouth. You will find that physicians are needed the world over. And if you asking if we still want you, whether you stay with Will or not, you know we will always make you feel welcome here. You are our friend, Djaq. "

Djaq smiled. "I appreciate that."

"It costs me nothing to say it. If you do not mind my asking, why did you decide to stay in the first place?"

Djaq shrugged. "Why did your husband learn the Koran? To know more about my enemy, I guess. Initially. And I had nothing to go back to. My village was torn apart by the Crusades. My family is dead. I do not want to go back and be Saffiya. There is nothing for me there. But I can make a life here."

"Do you... admire Will?"

"I tried not to think about it. But he is so unlike me. In every respect. He seems so calm, so rational, then he will lash out. I am a warrior by nature, I fight by instinct, but that rage goes away in moments of peace. Certainly, we have much to teach each other. That makes me curious, about what life with him might mean. But will I ever swoon for him? I cannot say."

Marian's eyes flashed, "Curiosity can be dangerous. Robin was the first boy I was ever curious about."

Djaq laughed.

* * *

Spring came slowly to this part of the world. Yet the King had promises to keep. He had to get to England, to set things right again. She would not keep any longer, despite Friedrich's offers to keep them longer. He had nearly raised his army of men, but the King and Carter were anxious to keep moving and let the Bavarians catch up when they could.

"We cannot thank you enough for your generous hospitality, Count," said Richard, shaking Friedrich's hand in his great hall. Blondel was feeding sugar to his war horse, ignoring the conversation entirely.

"Really, it is nothing. Are you sure you will not wait a few more days for my men to be ready?"

"No, Blondel and I will move faster just the two of Us. You will slow Us down, and We must get to Normandy, and then to London. We shall hope for a peaceful resolution, but We suspect We will be doing battle this summer."

"So I rendezvous with Robin in the forest?"

"Yes. Though We shall likely beat you there. We will know more then, though if it is resolved before, We shall try to notify you as swiftly as possible."

"I would appreciate that."

The two men gazed around, as if trying to prolong their interlude. The next time they saw each other, they would likely be preparing to do battle. Richard thought back on the past few weeks of comfort and friendship. The unlikely solace that he had found in Bavaria had been very welcome indeed. Friedrich had been openhanded with his excellent food, perfect wine, and amusing diversions.

With Friedrich, he perfected his game of chess. Friedrich noted that everyone is a pawn in comparison to the Queen.

" _ Yes, Eleanor certainly knows her way around these chessboards," Richard had commented. _

" _ Interesting that you think of Eleanor, not Berengaria," observed Friedrich. _

_ This gave Richard pause. "I suppose that is true. When one has not seen one's wife… and Berengaria, I think, is not up for such politics that We are embroiled in." _

" _ Not that you make her a priority," scolded Friedrich moving a rook. _

" _ Now, you sound like my Royal Mother," the King warned. _

" _ And the Pope, I should imagine." Friedrich's eyes twinkled with mischief. "If you want my advice-" _

" _ And I do not." _

" _ If you want my advice, you should sire an heir with Berengaria. After that, who cares? You will have a son." _

" _ Oh, and I suppose that will absolve me of all my sins," Richard said bitterly. _

" _ Who said you were sinning?" _

" _ Naturally you were thinking it." _

" _ No. I am also pragmatic when it comes to who shares my bed," Friedrich said carelessly. "Checkmate." _

" _ Damn you, Friedrich!" _

Richard shook the memories from his mind.

"Your Blondel still does not like me," Friedrich noted.

"Do not mind him. He is loyal to me to a fault. Unless you betray me, he is harmless to you."

"You know I will never betray you, my Lord."

"That is good to hear, Friedrich. Now, We really must depart. We look forward to seeing you later this summer!"

"As do I, your Highness."

King Richard the Lionheart strode out to the fine war horse that Friedrich had given him and pulled himself into the saddle.

"Farewell, Bavaria," he said simply as he and Blondel set out, once again, on the long road to Normandy. To his mother, and more allies, to more players in this very dangerous game he played. To England and Robin Good-Fellow and his crusade in the forest.

And then, perhaps, to Berengaria, to do as Friedrich suggested?

But until then, to make John his official heir, to stop these ridiculous plots for the Crown until he had a son strong enough to deny John Lackland his claim.

Perhaps his other brother's Geoffrey's son, Arthur could have a legitimate claim? But would he be strong enough to challenge John after Richard died?

Richard sighed.

"Is something the matter, my Lord?" Blondel asked, concerned.

"Merely matters of the Crown, Blondel. Be glad that you were not born a Prince."

"Every day," admitted Blondel.

_ Heavy is the head that wears the crown _ , thought Richard wearily.


	12. Miles to Go Before I Sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The woods are lovely, dark and deep.  
But I have promises to keep,  
And miles to go before I sleep,  
And miles to go before I sleep."   
~From Robert Frost's "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening"

"Robin, I must speak to you!" Tuck called, bursting into the camp.

It was near twilight, and the gang was settling in for sleep. Instantly, Robin was out of his bunk again, nearly knocking Marian out in his haste. "What is it? What has happened?" he demanded.

"I have just received word. The King has returned to England! He meets with his brother as we speak!"

The gang had been on needles and pins, waiting for such news.

"Rumors abound, Robin. It seems the King intends to pardon his brother before coming here in full strength to deal with the Sheriff."

Robin felt the eyes of his gang on him. As for himself, Robin was torn. Naturally he was  _ elated _ that Richard had returned. On the other hand….

"Surely, his coming here in full strength, as you put it, would be disastrous to Nottingham?" Marian asked, concerned.

"Would it not be best to draw him out?" Will asked.

"Much," Robin said slowly, turning to face his friend.

"Robin?"

"I need you to go to London. You need to meet with the King, and tell him to come, by all means, but come quietly. We can secret his men here, and as Will says, we will think of a way to draw him out, away from the villages, away from Nottingham. We have enough to rebuild without piecing Nottingham back together." Robin spoke his plan as it unfolded in his head.

"Why me?" sputtered Much.

Robin clasped his oldest friend on the shoulder. "There is no one I trust more, Much. And the King knows you and trusts you. Go in the morning, and take the fastest horse."

So he packed a horse and set out for London with the dawning.

He rode South to London to speak to the King. And, perhaps, to find a girl named Eve. Because he had promised.  _ When this is over, I will find you _ …  _ Or maybe sooner. _ She may have been working for the Sheriff, but she had switched sides. Much trusted her; she had risked her life for the gang. And it looked it would be over soon. He would have his Bonchurch. And Bonchurch without Eve seemed incomplete. He was not worried about finding her, she had mentioned that she had a cousin who was a fish-wife. She would go stay with her, bringing her mother. Much knew where almost all of the food markets were in London-town, and certainly the fish markets were more aromatic than others.

He had been to London, had lived in London, actually. Robin had been knighted there, Much was his squire. They trained there to be members of the King's Guard, before being sent to France to join the Royal Court.

But first, Much must speak to the King.

Much arrived in London a mere four days later, and went immediately to the Tower of London, and though he was not immediately received, Much did not mind. He had time to take a bath and to sleep on a mattress for the first time since setting out on his journey.

Before dinner, Much was led to the King's chambers in the newly built 'Wardrobe Tower' and announced simply as "Much, formerly of the King's Guard."

The room he was pushed into was small and intimate, and though Much could not see the river outside the window, he could still smell the stinking Thames coming in. How different London was from the freshness and the green-ness of Sherwood and the River Trent. Much then noticed William Longchamp, who was  _ supposed  _ to be Richard's steward in England during the crusade, and Prince John himself.

_ No wonder the room was stinking. _

"Much!" greeted the King, followed by Carter. Both were pleased to see him.

"But where is Robin?" asked the King after Much had made his bows.

"My Lord," Much said as Richard sat to hear him, "Robin is still secreted in Sherwood with those in Nottingham that are prepared to fight for you. We know the Sheriff there to be a villain, and we hope that Your Majesty might offer us. By your leave," Much added, in what he hoped was a graceful manner, but he knew it was clumsy.

Richard turned to glare at his brother.

"Yes, I have heard tell of this sheriff of yours, corrupt, over-demanding, and treasonous. How much of this do you know?"

"My Lord, if I had known he was going to try and kill you, while crusading for God and the Holy Father in Rome-" Prince John looked nervous.

"Enough," said King Richard, bored. He had grown up in a lion's den- constantly competing with his brothers for the throne. They were not above resorting to assassination.

"Much, what is it you need? We have five hundred men already, archers and calvary alike. Additionally, your friend the Count Friedrich in Bavaria has pledged a hundred men and himself. When do We march?"

"Er," said Much. "Robin would prefer... you do not."

The King's eyebrow raised.

William Longchamp, old and frail, leaned over to whisper in Carter's ear. Carter nodded.

"My Lord, we have lived as outlaws in Your forest for a long time, and your coming to Nottingham to raze it to the ground would be disastrous. Robin recommends that Your Lordship's men filter into Sherwood, as unobtrusively as possible, and instead, we will draw the Sheriff out of the castle. Robin would prefer not to injure any innocent bystanders."

" _ Robin _ would prefer this? Villains in charge in my city, and Robin would prefer Us not to crush him?"

"My Lord," Much's voice rose an octave, but he held his ground. "Robin has served you well all his life, as Captain of Your Guards, and now at home, protecting the people of Nottingham. The plan is a sound one; you know his gift for strategy. Let him try and protect the people and the places that he loves so much."

"Are you Much - that serving boy of Robin of Locksley? Is that who we are talking about?" Longchamp asked.

"Yes, Longchamp," said Prince John arrogantly. "Robin of Locksley, Robin Hood, and this is one of the outlaws."

"Robin of Locksley is Robin Hood? Why did you not say?" Longchamp exclaimed.

"Well, it was perfectly clear to everyone else," Prince John said.

"Everyone that you did not throw out of the Tower, anyway," Carter commented.

"Peace, Blondel," King Richard said. "But he is right, John. And if anyone here was outside Our law, it was you, which you will do well to remember."

"Yes, My Lord," said John, chastised, but Much could here anger simmering below the surface of his voice.

"Sit, Much, you seem nervous," King Richard offered.

"Thank you, My Lord," Much said, sitting in the chair that the King indicated.

"Now," said King Richard. "Tell us what Captain Robin Hood has planned for these Black Knights."

* * *

The following day, he set out on foot to the fish markets. Much knew the winding streets of London, especially in the markets which were full of people, would not tolerate his horse for very long. He intended to start at Billingsgate and work his way west to London Bridge. It was a sound plan. He could think of none better as he turned his back to the Tower.

He set out before dawn with some bread in his pocket from a wizened old woman who worked in the kitchens. It was nearly a mile to the bridge; by the time Much reached it, dawn had risen, casting its soft light on the mean streets near the river. And so, Much's search began in earnest.

He searched for a fish-wife who had a cousin Eve. Many laughed at him. Some tried to cajole him in to buying their fish, not this elusive cousin's. A few offered to introduce him to an Eve who frequented the London "Stews." (No amount of persuasion had ever convinced Much to go down there, not even the one time Robin insisted.) He always shook his head and moved on down Lower Thames Street.

It grew later, closer to noon, and the prices on the fish (as well as their freshness) began to go down. Much liked fish, but it was everywhere here. He was very glad indeed that he would never have to work a food stall, especially in so cramped a market. Finally he reached London Bridge.

While he was looking around, deciding which stall to go to first, he heard someone shout his name.

"Lord Much! LORD MUCH!"

He turned just in time to catch a girl with blonde locks in his arms and pull her close.

"Eve?"

For no one in London knew that he had once been and would be a Lord. Only Eve would know. He had not even left his name with the stalls he had already visited.

"I told them you would come. They did not believe me. But you are  _ here _ ."

"I am," he breathed, pulling back slightly so he could look into her very blue eyes. She did not wear a veil over her head, her face was covered in freckles and worry lines. He had never seen anyone so beautiful. "But you should know. It is not over yet, though it will be soon. The King is returned and Robin sent me to fetch him to Nottingham."

"The King? You have seen him? You know him?"

Much blushed. "Did you not know I served with the King's Guard?"

She smiled at him, "You are marvelous."

And in the moment, with her in his arms, telling him he was marvelous, Much could not help himself. He was tired of traveling, tired of waiting, so he blurted out, "Eve, where is your mother? I wish to ask her about taking you away from her."

Her face fell. Much cursed himself.

"Of course, she is welcome at Bonchurch, I mean, when Bonchurch is mine, again, I just meant... I am sorry," he trailed off, feeling foolish.

"I know what you meant, you said nothing wrong, My Lord. It is just... my mother passed this winter."

Much sighed and embraced her. "I am sorry indeed." He led her out of the main thoroughfare of the market, off to the side so as not to block traffic.

"It was a fever, and it was quick. She did not suffer," said Eve, pulling out of the embrace. "I do not wish to discuss my grief in the street."

_ That annoys you, to talk of the past. _

"Very well then," Much struggled. "Is there anyone I need to speak to about asking your hand in marriage?"

"No one here has any claim over me," Eve told him. "My cousin would not mind one less mouth to feed, she has five children of her own to help her run the stall."

"I see. Then..." he paused. "Is there somewhere we can go? Somewhere that is not the street."

She smiled again. Eve led him back the way he came, they ignored the eyes that followed them, though Much noticed a few people grin, apparently amused at him finding his Eve. She brought him to the church he had passed, St Magnus-the-Martyr, a small stone building with a bare little churchyard. Much had a sudden yearning for the greenery of Nottingham.

"How is this?" she asked.

"It will do," he told her, then dropped to one knee.

"Eve... I wish that I had the gift of flattery and pretty verses. I am not a troubadour, so I must make do with... I love you. Very much. If you will have me, well, then the wealth and bounty of Bonchurch are yours. I mean, when they are mine again. Of course."

"Yes, Much, I will have you. I can think of no finer man to marry than you."

She brought him to her cousin's house. Mary was a kind enough, but a worried woman with five children and a fisherman for a husband. Much brought them some beef and ale as a present, not sure what to do in a situation such as this. His gift was well received, though the family did seem relieved that they would not have to worry about feeding Eve any longer. After supper, Adam, the fisherman husband, took a short nap- he would wake in a few hours with their eldest son to try their luck fishing in the Thames. Whatever they caught, Mary and the younger children would try and sell.

Eve and Much lingered at the table, while the rest of the family settled around the fire.

"So what happened, you know, after I left?" she asked him.

"Ah," Much said, eloquently. "It is a long story. And a tale not yet complete. Perhaps I shall tell you when you return to Nottingham?"

"When do we leave?"

Much startled. "I thought I was clear, it is not yet over. There will likely be blood spilled this summer, the way the wind is blowing. No one has yet seen Vaisey back down."

"I do not care. If you can face him with a price on your head, than so can I. I am sure I can be of some use in your camp, I can cook, and I can mend wounds…. Only do not make me stay here."

Her eyes were wide and staring at him, begging him to bring her home.

"Very well," Much allowed. "We have two women already, I am sure they will appreciate your company. You remember the Lady Marian?"

"Of course. Who is the other?"

"Djaq – I do not know her last name. She is a Saracen."

"A Saracen? How did a Saracen woman come to be in your gang."

"It is a long tale."

She smiled. "Your life runs deeper than you let on, Much."

He grinned a little at that.

"So when do we leave?" she asked again.

"The King and I have a few things left to organize, Eve. But it will likely be soon after that."

* * *

"You called for me, My Lord?" Guy asked as he entered the Sheriff's map room. Allan scurried in behind him. Neither man took any notice; Allan had been everywhere at once lately and the castle had never run so efficiently.

"Yes. You should know King Richard has seen his brother in London." Vaisey sounded tense, but collected.

"What has happened between them?" Gisbourne asked. "And what does that mean for us?"

"It seems Richard, having no heir of his own and unlikely to produce one, made John his heir officially, saying it is what their father would have wanted, never mind that old Henry wanted to make John King in the first place. So, we now have a problem. We must kill Robin Hood before he manages to sneak off to London to tell him of the Black Knights, and of your little mission to the Holy Land. Little Robin was the Captain of the King's Guard, as you will do well to remember. Have you not heard how the King chooses his Captains?"

"Are you referring to the rumors of his… being…."

"French? Yes I am, Gisbourne, thank you for spelling it out so clearly. My God, but you are dense." The sheriff pushed the pawns around his map, collecting them close to Nottingham. "And another thing. The Pope has dismissed all charges against Good King Richard and excommunicated Duke Leopold. All the more reason for us to appear on Richard's side for the time being."

"So what do you want me to do?"

"I want five hundred Black Knights to clear out the forest. Get them Gisbourne."

"I am busy with other matters," Gisbourne tried to back out of the duty.

"Shut up, Gisbourne. Just shut up whinging about Marian for five seconds to organize the Black Knights. I DO NOT care about your strumpet. You should be like Allan here, tumbling ladies of the night. Ever so simple. Now give your messengers something  _ useful _ to do!"

With that, they were dismissed.

Allan made a bawdy joke about his ladies of the "afternoon" and slipped off to the forest.

* * *

Will opened the camp upon their return from scouting the roads to find Allan sitting leaning against Robin's bunk, calmly eating an apple.

The gang was unconcerned, and greeted their spy. Though infrequent, they were used to him dropping in and out of the camp these days.

"What news, Allan?" Robin asked.

Will started a fire to begin preparing supper. Djaq helped him. John gathered wood for the fire before settling in to take a nap. Marian took off her gear and shook out her hair before braiding it back up again.

"The King is in London and has made peace with Prince John. The Sheriff is gathering the Black Knights, hoping to kill you all before you can speak to Richard. And rid the country of the worst outlaw England has ever seen," Allan reported. "Expect five hundred men."

"Much is already with the King. When does the Sheriff expect the Black Knights to arrive?" Robin informed Allan.

"Soon. I will let you know when I do," promised Allan. "How did you know the King had returned?" he asked slyly.

Robin grinned and winked. "I will never tell. Now go, before you are missed."

Allan saluted cheekily and rushed into the forest.

"Will?" Robin turned to face the gang.

"Yes?"

"Sir Richard of the Lee has offered us his help when the time comes. It seems the time is nearly at hand. Will you go remind him of his promise? Take one of the horses."

"Take mine," offered Marian. "It is the fastest."

"Of course," Will said, standing. He gathered his things.

Djaq watched him with her eyes as he left the camp.

The next few days were subdued as the gang began preparing for company. They expected the King to arrive with reinforcements, and for Sir Richard. They prepared their drops and warned all the villagers; many of the men pledged their support when the time came. Robin promised that those who wished to fight above the age of seventeen winters would be able to.

Will arrived with Sir Richard one rainy night, and one other unexpected guest.

"This is my son-in-law, Sir David of Doncaster," Sir Richard introduced him to the gang.

David looked younger than Robin had expected, with a strong jaw, bright blue eyes, and long black hair caught in a loose plait. His clothes were ill-fitting, but Robin could tell he was powerfully built.

"Welcome," said Robin getting up to shake the men's hands. "Help yourself to what vittles we have. And we shall certainly make room for you here."

The camp was about to get crowded, fast.

* * *

Robin had a scout near Nottingham at all times. He was just conferring with Marian about the worrying fact that the Sheriff (after many Black Knights were seen entering), closed the gates to the city.

Clearly, the time was getting close.

It was at this moment that Robin spied another large party making their way down the North Road.

"Who on God's green earth could that be?" Marian muttered.

They scrutinized the party… then Robin was on his feet.

"MUCH!"

Marian recognized them and the two rushed to meet their King.

"You Highness!" Robin shouted, unable to keep the happiness out of his voice. "Welcome, my Lord. Might I present my wife, the Lady Marian?"

The King dismounted. "Yes, it is very nice to meet you. So this is the lady both you and Much hold in such high esteem?"

Much blushed as he too dismounted. Robin caught him in an embrace. Marian noticed Eve.

"Eve!" Marian said in surprised. How many allies would be reunited before this was over? "Welcome!"

"We have more men coming, Robin Hood. In all, two hundred Norman archers and three hundred of Calvary. We also expect more from other friends. Blondel brings a new group tomorrow. We take it you have scouts on the roads? I can lend some as well."

Robin's head was spinning. Five hundred men! Plus the villagers, plus he and his men and Sir Richard and David…. It would be a most fair fight over Nottinghamshire.

And they had the King on their side, who promised even more men!

"Come, to the camp," Robin said, all smiles. "We will plan more there.

* * *

Over the next few days, the five hundred men that the King had promised trickled their way into Sherwood. The Sheriff seemed not to notice; the gang never saw any of his scouts on the roads.

Robin had just finished settling the last group of Norman archers in a nearby copse of trees when he heard Marian's bird call and took instantly to find her. She was keeping watch near the road.

"Who are these jokers?" he whispered, crawling to where she was perched on a hill, overlooking the road. Both their hoods were drawn.

A plain carriage without any standard was bouncing down the road when a hand came out of the window and tapped the driver on the shoulder. The driver reined in the horses and a familiar figure flounced out of the carriage.

Marian recognized him instantly and stood to call, "Why, it is Count Friedrich Berthold Otto von Wittelsbach! Of Bavaria!" She was laughing.

"Lady Marian of Knighton! I am ever your servant," he doffed his cap to her.

She giggled. "Countess Marian of Locksley, you will find, when it is returned to my husband."

Robin stood up next to Marian. Count Friedrich Berthold Otto von Wittelsbach bowed to them both as Robin and Marian made their way down the hill.

"I am both of your servants, then. It seems your King has befriended me and begged my help in the matter of a pesky Sheriff."

"Well, the more the merrier. Only there is no need for titles in the forest, Otto," Robin said, giving the man a nickname. "We are all equals, here." The men shook hands.

"If I am to be called by one name only, can it not be Friedrich?" he asked.

"Otto will do." Robin's eyes twinkled mischievously.

"Very well. My men will be along shortly."

"Your men?" Marian asked.

"Did King Richard not say? I brought with me one hundred mercenaries. And food; I was not sure what your stores would be here in the forest."

Marian kissed him on the cheek.

* * *

"Gisbourne!" barked the Sheriff as he strode into Guy's chambers.

"Yes, my Lord?" Gisbourne looked up from yet another letter of inquiry, this time for a convent in Normandy.

"What are you doing tomorrow?"

_ Trick question, _ thought Guy.  _ Any answer he would give, no matter how thoughtful, would be wrong. Allan would give a cheeky answer, like, "Not bein' funny, but my girl Jocosa." _

"Making the Black Knights comfortable, I imagine," Gisbourne responded.

"Wrong!" the Sheriff laughed darkly. "You have to get your head out of the clouds, Gisbourne. We go to battle tomorrow!"

This did not surprise Gisbourne.

"Now, go tell the Black Knights – we enter Sherwood at dawn!"

"My Lord," Gisbourne said suddenly, "after tomorrow – might I go seek out Lady Marian?"

"Gisbourne – do not lose your focus now, or you will lose your  _ head. _ "

The Sheriff huffed off.

Gisbourne stood up and marched out of his chamber, suddenly feeling much lighter. Down he went, out to the kitchens.

"Allan!"

He was sitting on a bench; Allan-A-Dale swallowed a mouthful of ale. "Yes?"

"Go visit your Jocasa. We do battle tomorrow at dawn." Gisbourne looked positively giddy.

"Right," said Allan, standing. "I will be back tonight." He winked. Without another word, Allan was off, not to the (imaginary) Jocasa, but to Sherwood, to the gang, to warm them of the morrow.


	13. A Year and a Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Well you are my accuser, now look in my face.  
Your oppression reeks of your greed and disgrace.  
So one man has and another has not.  
How can you love what it is you have got,  
When you took it all from the weak hands of the poor?  
Liars and thieves you know not what is in store.  
"There will come a time I will look in your eye  
You will pray to the God that you always denied  
The I'll go out back and I'll get my gun.  
I'll say, "You haven't met me, I am the only son."  
"Seal my heart and break my pride.  
I've nowhere to stand and now nowhere to hide  
Align my heart, my body, my mind  
To face what I've done and do my time."
> 
> Mumford and Sons, "Dust Bowl Dance"

The camp was open to the night and quite full, even though only the gang, the King, Carter, Otto and Eve slept there. There simply was not room for six hundred more men. (Tuck  _ had _ been offered a place, but he had declined. He was a peaceful man; he would not condemn the battle ahead, but neither would he take up arms.) The archers and the calvary and Otto's men from Germany were all eating together, clustered as close to the camp as possible. Many had bathed, all were preparing for the fight in their own ways.

Marian had filled her quiver and Robin's to bursting. She was nervous, and so was he. Yet he knew better than to ask her to stay behind.

"I wish all was well, Marian, I wish…."

"Those are dreams, my love. Reality is better, though we go into battle tomorrow."

"You are right, of course."

"Robin, if you keep sharpening that sword, you will be more likely to lose a finger." She sat heavily next to him. The forest around them was full of conversation and laughter. Richard the Lionheart, Robin, and Marian had devised a battle plan, all were willing to follow Robin's lead (waiting for Richard to reveal himself, relying on the element of surprise and a flair for the dramatics).

"Well, what do you suggest I do, Marian?"

"Take me in your arms," she said quietly. "I will not sleep tonight anyway. Take me in your arms and let us forget the battle at hand, so that tomorrow when we fight to the death, I can remember these few hours of pleasure that we can steal. Tomorrow I may be a widow," she choked on the word, but continued, "but tonight, I am your wife."

Such gentle pleading stood out in such stark contrast to what Robin had experienced on the field of battle, and to what they were both likely to taste tomorrow. Marian, for all her skill as a fighter, and for how many smaller skirmishes she had been in, how many guards she had taken out, had never been in a proper battle. And he could hear the trepidation in her voice. How could he not take her away from the fires for a few stolen hours?

He only hoped these moments in the moonlight would not have to last either of them the rest of their lives. Their lovemaking was desperate, somehow outside of time, outside of themselves. Robin could not help but think (as much as he  _ could _ think in that moment) that as Marian rolled herself on top of him, she looked like a modern day Boudicca, a true Daughter of Albion, wild of hair, bare of breast, ready to fight to the death for her lands and her loves.

As Robin shuddered his release, he hoped they would live to fight beyond tomorrow.

After, they simply lay together, underneath the tallest oak in Sherwood. He brought his hand up and gently stroked her collarbones as they wrapped around her shoulders. She felt like that was all that was containing herself, the final barrier between her and him, the coasts of their bones. Their bodies were maps, scars told of great battles. Together, their bodies told the story of the struggle for Nottingham, of years spent apart. She could read his suffering in the Holy Land, in a scar that puckered on his chest. He could see the scar on her stomach, another on her arm. All drawn by the same mapmaker, who's name she did not dare utter in this, their holiest of holies. The touchstone tree that they became one under.

It was a warm night, and they were together, but eventually they began to chill.

Marian sat up and pulled on her clothing, soft, comfortable clothing that she would wear tomorrow. Robin insisted that the gang wear chain mail. It was no protection against arrows, to be sure, but hopefully would protect against other blows. Robin watched as she untied the long green ribbon from her bow and plaited into a braid that ran down her back.

"Marian, I need to tell you something," Robin said suddenly.

"What is it? What have you not already confessed to me?"

"I just…. We are cut from the same cloth. And, you are the best thing in my life. Would I could protect you."

She turned to face him, eyes wide. "Do  _ not _ put me on that pedestal, Robin. I am only human. That is what Gisbourne thinks of me, that I am somehow separate from this. But this is  _ our _ fight. These are my lands, too. I go into battle with you tomorrow because I love you, yes, but also, because I love Nottingham with the same fierce loyalty that you do. Do  _ not _ make me apart from it."

"You know I will not. Marian," he gave her a hard look, his eyes narrowed.

"Yes?"

"Give them no quarter. Not one damned inch."

"I will not," she vowed.

She then took Robin's ribbon from his bow and tied it around his left wrist, knowing his arm guard would protect it from being ripped apart by his bow string.

Thus adorned, they made their way back to the camp.

* * *

"Ah, Robin Hood, and the Nightwatchman," the Sheriff mocked cruelly as he, Gisbourne, and Allan rode out in their leather to meet Robin and Marian in their greenery, the entire force of the Black Knights, five hundred men, at their backs.

"Yes," Robin said simply. "Robin Hood and the Nightwatchman, and all others who will stand up to your tyranny. This is your last warning. Stand down."

"Hmmmm, my entire army, the combined forces of the Black Knights, against, what, six outlaws? Stand down? A clue: No."

"Seven," came a voice.

"What?" growled Guy.

"Seven. Seven outlaws." Allan spurred his horse to join at Robin's left side. "That is, if they will have me."

"Well met, Allan-A-Dale," greeted Robin.

"You wish to die in battle?" asked the Sheriff. "Very well, you are Gisbourne's man, not mine. And you," his gaze returned to the Nightwatchman. "I suppose you are Robin's man? But tell me, how do you kiss him with that handkerchief over your mouth?"

"What is your game, Sheriff?" Robin asked dangerously.

Marian's stomach dropped. She had guarded her secret so carefully. Did Allan say something? But then, why did Allan switch to their side?

"Oh, only some pre-battle taunts. You know how it goes. I was merely suggesting that perhaps our Good King Richard had perhaps taught you a few things about kissing other men, for one." He grinned his nasty grin, the white false tooth standing out from all the yellow.

Marian realized that this was her moment to reveal herself, as strong and capable, and yes, as a woman. Not to protect Robin from accusations of taking to the King's bed (she knew that he found no insult there, that things are different for men off fighting in foreign sands), but to rub it in the Sheriff's face, in Gisbourne's face, that they had been bested time and time again by a woman that they constantly underestimated.

"A man I am not," she removed the mask and pulled down the kerchief. She threw the mask to the ground. "I did not choose the name of Nightwatchman, but now, I choose to be known. I am Lady Marian of Knighton, true Countess of Huntingdon, married to the man you call Robin Hood, but whom the King and I call Robin of Locksley. What say you to that?"

Gisbourne's mouth hung open, anger flooded his eyes.

"Last chance, Sheriff," Robin warned.

"Marian," Guy hissed.

She met his eye calmly. "Do not address me so informally, Gisbourne. I fear you do not know me at all."

"HOOD! YOU WILL REGRET THIS!" Gisbourne bellowed.

Taking that for a "No, we shall not stand down," Marian, Robin, and Allan rode as quickly as they could back to the tree-line.

"Archers to the ready!" Robin bellowed, first in English, then French. He nocked an arrow to his bow, Marian did the same.

"Allan, go find the calvary," she directed him, seeing he had a sword and knuckler, but no bow or quiver bursting full of arrows, and seeing he was suddenly overwhelmed with the sheer number of men came out to fight for the King. Marian blew him a kiss.

"Marian, to me! Archers, take your aim!" Lined up all through the tree-line, just in the shadows and out of sight, were all the archers in the King's army. She rushed to her husband and took a second to remember him as he was this instant, strong, defiant, and a leader of many in the King's name. She took a deep calming breath, released it, and then pulled in another one as she drew her bow.

"FIRE!" Robin shouted.

The archers used up their arrows before Robin blew his hunting horn and they left the tree-line with the calvary and the foot soldiers; Marian propped up her bow and charged with Robin into the fray with her sword and knuckler. The heat of the battle came and went in waves. There were moments Marian could almost breathe again… but then it would catch up with her. She would lose sight of Robin… but then see Allan dispatching a knight. He would shout to her, but the words would be lost with the noise of horses and men screaming, swords clashing, arrows finding their targets. Robin would resurface, then fall back again, and Djaq would come, screaming, into view before she, too was gone.

"MARIAN!" Guy shouted. She would know his voice anywhere, even on a battlefield.

She turned to face him, for the last time. He knew the truth now, or he could guess where her heart lay. There was only one way this could end – one of them had to die. Her eyes flashed, "I warned you not to address me so informally, Gisbourne!"

"I loved you!" he told her, the confession sounded painful as it ripped from his throat.

"If you had loved me," she told him, screaming, "you would have known the truth about me, that I could have admired you had you not backed the Sheriff, but I could never have loved you. If you had loved me, Guy of Gisbourne, you would have let me be free."

Confusion swamped his eyes, followed by blind rage. He lunged-

-Marian blocked his blow with a parry of her own.

"It is Hood – he has blinded you to your true self!"

"You forget the Nightwatchman kept her watch  _ before _ Robin returned from the Holy Land!" They were dancing around each other.

"No!" He lunged again –

-she blocked him again, but he held strong. Marian kept him in check long enough to spit out, "Yes. I have loved Robin Hood longer than I have known! I married Robin Hood! He supports me, he has nothing to offer me but that, and his love! He is brave, Gisbourne, where you are a coward. A leader, never a follower, and wise beyond his years. And he is a free man, and wishes others to be free. You are bound by Vaisey, and in turn, you wished to bind me! " She overthrew his weight and he fell to the ground, his sword out of reach….

" _ Marian _ !"

She rested her sword at his throat. Her voice dropped, but she knew he could hear her, she could see his eyes, widening at her words. "But I am not to be bound. Know that before you die, that I am beyond your reach. Beyond your possession." And without letting him say another word, she slit his throat, letting his traitorous blood bubble out of his throat and spill into the dust.

_ One more, _ Robin thought after each man slain.  _ Just one more _ …. They came in drove, hoping to curry favor to the Sheriff, to be the one who killed the infamous Robin Hood.

_ One more _ .

Much fought on his left side. Robin lost sight of Marian, but trusted in the Virgin Mary to watch over his bride.

Little John rushed up and joined Robin as he fought two men – roughly knocking one out with his quarterstaff.

"You should have a sword, John!" Robin shouted.

"No, I am better with my staff!" John called back.

Robin chuckled as he parried one of the Knights.  _ One more…. _

As he threw the man to the ground, (he would not be getting up again), Robin noticed Little John get into trouble… he was just about to rush to his aid when the man bisected John's belly.

" _ No!" _ Robin screamed. He and Much made a break for John and his opponent. Much quickly took care of the hooded knight, Robin knelt to John (knowing that act would be dangerous. At least Much had his back for the moment).

"John, talk to me!" Robin demanded.

"No," Little John refused.

"You cannot give up. You have made it his far!"

"Shut your stupid mouth, Lord Locksley. It was a good day, Robin," he sputtered, spitting up blood.

Robin's eyes widened in shock as he realized that those were Little John's last words.

Much clasped his hand on Robin's shoulder. "Do not let John's death be in vain."

Robin crossed himself and allowed Much to pull him up. It was a dangerous thing to remain still in a battle. He turned around and met eyes with the Sheriff.

_One more._ _For John Little_.

"What ever is the matter, Robin? Did your little friend die? For you? No matter, you will be next."

Robin knew the taunts continued. He could see Vaisey's lips moving. But he could not hear the words. The roaring of battle in his ears faded into silence. All the men he had ever killed, ever maimed, ever fought, ever sparred against… hushed. It was as if only Robin existed, and only Vaisey. Both created to destroy the other.

Robin controlled his anger, his rage and fury, and channeled it to one aim. He felt strong, as if he were an extension of Nottingham, determined to bring down a remorseless man. Robin watched silently as the Sheriff fought Robin's sword. He was disconnected from the process, noting how Vaisey seemed more and more panicked with every parry. Still Robin could not hear the Sheriff's words, and still, Robin said nothing. He was saving all his energy….

Robin saw his opening. Quick as lightning, Robin thrust his sword into the exposed armpit of the sheriff's armor, twisting the blade to go into the man's chest.

For that was all that remained, the shell of a man. The evil soul was exorcised. The heart blood seeped out onto the sleeves of chain mail.

Robin yanked out the sword again, leaving Vaisey to his nothingness.

Marian did not have time to think. She blocked and parried and attacked each Black Knight as they came, wave after black wave, dispatching each one. Her vision became curiously focused, such that as soon as she had killed one, she moved on to the next with alarming efficiency. She did not keep count of how many men she cut down, to the point that she no longer remembered where she had started, who she was, where she was going, or how many were left.

Until, at last (at long last), she turned to face the next knight, her next opponent, to see… Robin.

"It is done," he said quietly. The silence of the battlefield washed over her. "It is over," Robin made his way towards her.

Marian inhaled a ragged breath and collapsed into the dusty battlefield; she was suddenly caught off guard when she vomited the little food she had managed to keep down over the past day. In a trice, Robin was there, steadying her and rubbing her back. After a few moments, she sat back on her heels, feeling weak and tremble-y.

"I am sorry," she started, but Robin shushed her.

He passed her some mint from a pouch at his hip. "You will not the first person to be sick after a battle," he told her softly, "nor will you be the last."

Marian made to stand, but he pushed her back gently. She stuffed the mint in her mouth and began to chew while he managed to find a horse. The mint calmed her stomach and soon, Robin was helping her on the back of the stocky old mare. The left the battlefield riding double, pausing only to collect their bows and nod at Much.

It was midday; the battle had been both shorter and longer than Marian had realized. She knew she would always remember this day in a kind of haze. Perhaps it was best that way. Perhaps it was how Robin remembered the Holy Land. But she did not want to think on that now.

"What are our loses?" she asked, perhaps her first civil words all day.

"Not bad. I saw Otto, the King, and Carter - all are well. But Little John…" Robin shook his head.

"The Sheriff?" Marian swallowed back more bile. She would cry later, she promised herself.

"Dispatched. Gisbourne?"

"Dispatched."

"That makes things tidy," said Robin quietly.

Marian closed her eyes as another wave of nausea rolled over her. Tidy was not exactly the word she would have chosen. Perhaps she dozed when her eyes were closed, or perhaps she was still somehow outside time, for when she opened her eyes again, they were in Locksley. Robin helped her down and led her into the house,  _ his _ house again.

Thornton and his yellow-haired daughter Bridget came out to meet them.

"What has happened?" the old man asked, clearly confused but the dirty, torn, and bloodied couple in chain mail before him.

"What was mine is restored," Robin said plainly. "Might we have a simple meal and baths?" he requested. "Leave the tubs in the kitchen, we need nothing elaborate.

"Of course," Bridget said curtsying and hurrying off to prepare two tubs and plates of food.

Robin settled Marian down on a bench, then scurried up the stairs. Marian watched as he turned and entered the room of his boyhood, undoubtedly  _ not _ the room Gisbourne had been using. What Guy had been storing in there, mostly weapons, soon was tossed out and down the stairs. After a few more moments of cleaning, he demanded clean sheets for the room and a robe for Lady Marian.

' _ Oh,' _ her mind vaguely registered,  _ 'I am a Lady again _ .' She looked at her bloodstained cuffs.

And she would sleep under a roof again. Such luxury, a mattress of her own. Not sleeping beneath a tree or on borrowed straw. Marian looked around the hall, as if seeing it for the first time. It had been so long since she had been inside. It had been so long since it had been Robin's.

"M'lady," Bridget drew her from her thoughts, "Your bath is prepared, M'Lord's will be ready presently."

Robin clattered down the stairs. Where he got his energy from, Marian had no idea.

She stood and followed Bridget to the kitchen. Robin banished all the serving maids, telling them they had the afternoon off. He turned to Marian. "Hands up, my love," he told her.

She obeyed, and he pulled off her mail tunic. Marian had not realized how much it had weighed on her shoulders.

"We will clean these tomorrow," he promised, pulling off his own.

Marian undressed in silence and sank into her tub, eyes fluttering closed at the simple pleasure. The hot water went to work, easing tight muscles and absolving her of the filth from today. Robin startled her when he pulled up a bench next to her. Her eyes opened to watch him wet a flannel and rub some strong lye soap into it until it lathered. He took her hand and began washing her from shoulder to fingertip, first one arm, then the other, mindful of welts that would turn to bruises (but better than cuts – the chain mail had done its job).

"There is no need to wash me," she said. "I am perfectly capable." She made no move to stop him.

"Let me do this for you, Marian. Please."

He looked so earnest, and she was so tired… she shifted, offering him her back, dropping her chin to her chest. He scrubbed it well, then his calloused fingers rubbed her tired muscles until every knot was undone. She had not felt so relaxed since… she could not remember. Since before Vaisey was made sheriff, certainly. She rolled back again when he took his hands away. Very carefully, he washed her breasts and abdomen. Impossibly, despite her exhaustion, she felt her desire for him increase. He seemed unaffected, and moved the bench so he could wash her legs and feet. Marian sighed as he gently massaged her arches.

"I love you," she sighed.

He chuckled. "If this is all I needed to win your love, I would have massaged your toes years ago," he said, letting her foot splash into the tub again.

Then peeled off his own clothes and finished filling his own tub with piping hot water, crawling in and began washing himself.

Marian felt she should get up and return the favor, but could not bring herself to do it. All her limbs felt like soft butter, she was unable to exert much energy. Instead, she unbraided her hair, gently laid the ribbon on the floor and washed her hair.

Her water soon cooled so that it was uncomfortable, so she hauled herself out and wrapped herself in a towel and the ribbon around her left wrist. Robin followed suit, and after toweling his hair dry, he gathered up the platter of food, took Marian's hand and led her up the stairs to his chamber.

It was the first time she had been in this room.

Marian suddenly felt like a bride again. A very tired and weary bride, but naked (quite literally under the towel) in his presence and a green ribbon loosely tied around her left wrist (a matching ribbon on his). Robin closed the door, settled the platter on a side table, stripped off his towel and collapsed into the bed, pulling a blanket up to his waist.

Marian shook herself. She was being ridiculous. She was with him just last night. They had been married a year and a day. She pulled off her own towel and crawled into bed, settling in his arms.

"Might I steal a kiss?" he asked.

Marian smiled at the prospect. "I think you have stolen a good deal more than that."

He kissed her, slowly and carefully, as if they had all the time in the world.

_ Which _ , she reminded herself as their passion began in earnest,  _ they did. _

* * *

"I once promised to ravish you properly when everything was over," he reminded her. The sun was setting now.

"You are a man of your word, Locksley," she whispered. "I thought I was tired. But what is it about today that made me want you so?" she asked, trying not to blush. It was not a rhetorical question. She was genuinely curious as to what had come over her, and if Robin knew what it was. He was generally more knowledgeable about these things than her. It sometimes came to her advantage.

Robin's face softened as he spooned up next to her. "I do not know. Something about battle makes people desperate to prove they are alive."

Marian nodded slowly and met his eyes. "We are alive," she told him. "We are  _ here _ ." Tears sparked in her eyes; she blinked them back, but still he saw them.

Robin's arms snaked around her and held her tightly. Marian held on to him, hiding her face in his chest.

"We are alive," he whispered back. Now she could hear tears threatening in his voice. "Not only that, we have a victory over the Black Knights. We can start from scratch, take care of Nottingham. The work is not finished, but we do not have the threat of deadly foes. You are in my arms, in my bed, nothing else matters. Everything begins anew when the sun rises."

With these words, it was as if he had given her permission to relax, and she fell into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Robin was startled awake when a knock rapped on his door. Marian stirred in his arms.

"Yes?" Robin sat up and made sure Marian was covered before Thornton cautiously opened the door.

"My Lord, King Richard is here to see you."

Robin leaned against the headboard. "Make sure he has everything he needs, and tell him I will be down in a few minutes."

"Very good, my Lord," Thornton said. "And if it pleases you, Bridget thought her Lady might need some clothing, and sent up her best dress."

"Thank you," Robin said gratefully as Thornton set the dress on a chair and went out again. Robin yawned and stretched, not quite ready to get out of bed, even for his King. He glanced over at his wife.

Marian was blinking her eyes awake. "What has happened?"

Robin leaned down and kissed her, heart clenching at the sight of her in his old bedchamber. "The King is downstairs. Bridget sent up her very best dress for you to wear. We will have to go to the camp and get our things today."

Marian chuckled. She stood, pulled on Bridget's best dress, pulled her hair back. Robin followed her to action, pulling on clothes and boots. Once dressed, they clasped hands. The green ribbon that bound them tickled her wrist, reminding them that they had to renew their vows and feed Nottingham.

Besides the wedding, there was so much left to do. A county to set to rights, a King to conciliate, villains to castigate, and villeins to compensate. Their work was never done.


	14. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Many years have passed since those summer days,  
Among the fields of barley.  
See the children run as the sun goes down,  
Among the fields of gold.  
You'll remember me when the west wind moves  
Upon the fields of barley  
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky,  
When we walked in the fields of gold." 
> 
> Sting, "Fields of Gold"

A year and a day passed:

They buried Little John and mourned him. Marian and Robin were wed properly, Tuck again performing the ceremony before retiring to his cell. He said he planned to put their adventures to the convent's Records. Much was made Sheriff of Nottingham, (and granted his Bonchurch) and immediately appointed Allan as the Master at Arms. Djaq moved into Will's childhood home with him, and Eve married Much. Suddenly, Much was not too upset they were splitting into couples.

While their personal lives were quite settled, they all continued to work tirelessly for the good of the Shire. Robin and Marian took turns at playing the Nightwatchman. Much repealed Vaisey's unjust taxes. Djaq offered her services as a healer. Will rebuilt much of the Shire. Gradually, things in Nottingham would become prosperous again.

And one day in early September, Robin and Marian got one small wish. A tiny baby girl was left on their doorstep. Marian took the infant from Bridget Thornton and sent her immediately to Nottingham to look for a wet-nurse.

"What should we name her?" asked Robin looking at Marian with a dazed expression on his face.

Marian was trying to calm the squalling newborn until the wet-nurse arrived. "I do not know," said Marian. "Do you have any ideas? Shh, little one. Shhhh…."

"Eleanor?" tried Robin. "After the Queen?"

"No, not Eleanor," Marian said. She sang softly to the baby a lullaby from her own childhood, a nonsensical one Edward would sing to her, 

" _ Lullay lullow, lullay lully,  
_ _ Beway bewy, lullay lullow,  
_ _ Lullay lully,  
_ _ Baw me bairne, sleep softly now.  
_ _ I saw a sweet and seemly sight,  
_ _ A blissful bird, a blossom bright,  
_ __ That morning made and mirth among."

The baby cried herself to sleep, snuggled up tight to Marian's (empty) breasts. Marian felt herself wink back tears. 

" _ A maiden mother, meek and mild,  
_ _ In cradle keep, a knavë's child,  
_ _ That softly sleep; she sat and sang.  
_ _ Baw me bairne, sleep softly now.  
_ _ Lullay lullow, lullay lully,  
_ _ Beway bewy, lullay lullow,  
_ _ Lullay lully,  
_ __ Baw me bairne, sleep softly now. " 

Marian finished the song, and slowly let out a breath. "Do you want to hold her?"

Robin looked a bit hesitant (the couple had not even broken their fasts, and there was much to be done today, the harvests to be brought in from the field, they should really be going, actually…). But he held his arms out and Marian passed the dozing baby.

Robin took her gracefully and settled down on a bench, rearranging the coarse blanket she was wrapped in. "Hello, sweeting," he greeted her softly.

"Katherine," said Marian, sitting down next to him. She rested her chin on his shoulder, all the better to watch the baby.

"Yes," he agreed.

So Katherine joined their tiny family, and Marian was content to play with her has the weather grew colder, promising all sorts of adventures for her daughter. The baby's hair grew out to a soft amber color. Her laughing brown eyes followed her adoptive parents around the room. And she grew fat on her nurse, Hilda's milk.

Being a mother to baby Katherine must have awoken something in Marian's womb. (Or regular meals and regular hours had agreed with her.) For at Christmastide, when Robin was keeping more promises (showering Marian with useless trinkets, including matching gold wedding bands for each of them), she whispered in his ear on Epiphany that his present would be a few months late.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his eyes alight.

"Yes," she said with a slow smile, cuddling Katherine closer to her (tender) breasts.

"Worth the wait, then." Robin lounged back on their bed, looking pleased with himself.

In mid-June, a few weeks after the fields were planted, Marian delivered a son, whom they called Geoffrey, for Robin's father.

And now it was late August. A full year and a day had gone by in a blink, moments became memories, and Marian and Robin were taking their children into Sherwood for the first time. To the tallest oak they went, where Marian and Robin had first vowed love and loyalty, where they carved their names into the bark.

Marian settled the children on a blanket and unpacked a basket of food. Robin gathered a bit of kindling for a small fire. Katherine practiced a few hesitating steps (watched carefully by Marian and Robin, lest she get too close to the flames).

"I like us like this," said Robin sitting down next to Marian and tickling Geoffrey's tummy. The infant giggled in her arms.

"Like what?"

Robin kissed Marian's temple and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "Like we were this past year and a day. Home. Open. Building something. I like it."

"I am quite pleased with how things turned out myself," she agreed, listening to his words, but following Katherine with her eyes.

"Much has made a good sheriff," Robin observed with pride.

"And Allan a good lieutenant," Marian added.

"Djaq is a pillar of the community."

"And so is Will."

"I like us like this. Settled in and getting ready for old age," Robin said.

"As long as you retain your boyish good looks," teased Marian.

"I intend to… God willing."

Marian laughed. "You know, I was thinking. You know the verse from 'Revelations?'"

"Can you be more specific?" Robin asked.

"Behold; I make all things new!" she declared in a thunderous voice. Pitching her voice back to normal, she said, "Last year, I felt as though it were the end of the world. Like we were all going to die. This past year... we were all made new."

Robin looked a little pleased at her analysis. "Renewal. Redemption. Such things  _ do _ exist," he said forcefully.

Katherine took it upon herself to break the conversation, and handed them a stick, ginning triumphantly.

"She looks like you when she does that," Marian told him.

"Thank you, sweeting," Robin said, ignoring Marian and gently taking the stick from Katherine. "Perhaps we can ask Will to make your first bow with it?"

"No," said Marian with a small kiss to Katherine's hand. "Not yet. I do not want her baby skin torn to ribbons by her string yet.

"You are right."

"Just so." Her eyes were laughing at him.

"Honestly, Marian. We have lived through the worst. I am happy now we get to live through the best," he said, leaning over Geoffrey to kiss Marian.

So they lived and loved in the shades of Sherwood, surrounded by their friends, friends who had become family, raising their two children, and creating a happy life. Naturally, one where things did not always go according to plan….


End file.
